


All Your Light

by hairycatlips



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fireside cuddles, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lighthouses, Modern AU, Multilingual Character, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, ecologist!lavellan, light alcohol use, lighthousekeeper!solas, no magic in this AU, the dread wolf takes forever, twitchy elf ears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6019326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hairycatlips/pseuds/hairycatlips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyvhenari is in a rut. Research comes with a price--all her friends have gone their separate ways, leaving her to sit in her Hinterlands apartment and write a book on shorebirds and coastal ecology. </p><p>Then she gets an email from her former professor, and makes a decision that will change her life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Electronic Correspondence and A Big Decision

Lyvhenari slumped over the desk scattered with logbooks and looseleaf binder paper scribbled with notes. Her eyes wouldn’t focus anymore on the stark black and white of the words she’d been typing, and her tea had run out. What a perfect excuse to get up...but just as she pushed her desk chair back, her email blipped. She grumbled something like “just suck me back in, why don’t you”, and pulled herself to the desk once more to click over to the mail tab.

 

 **From** : capcf_pentaghast@usf.edu  
**Sent** : Tuesday, 03 Kingsway, 42 Dragon 9:51 AM  
**Subject** : Research opportunity

Lyvhenari--I found this ad in the newspaper. You should give it a try, I think you could find something to go along with your research. Here’s what the ad said:

“Offering: shared residence in decommissioned lighthouse off coast of Estwatch. Marine biology and ecology interests welcome; tide pools and shorebirds abundant. Live-in will perform manual labor in groundskeeping/maintenance and assistance with running lighthouse tours and gift shop. Total duration of contract one year. Email fenharel245@gmail.com for details.”

Hope all is well,

Cassandra

 __________________________________________

 

Huh. A lighthouse would be interesting. She wondered what kind of person lived in a lighthouse--probably they knew a lot about history if they gave tours and such. Maybe a professor? Or some old retired geezer that needed help around the place. Probably the latter. Still, the idea was appealing. If she could study the interactions between shorebird species and the invertebrates in the area, well...it couldn’t hurt the book she was writing on coastal ecology, especially when she lived so far from the beach now. What was she thinking, settling down in the Hinterlands? But a year was a long time, especially living on a place like Estwatch. There were unsavory folks around those parts, and she knew from news reports that pirates still landed there on occasion.

 She’d think about it.

For the time being, though, she shot Cassandra back a message saying thanks for the info, and made a mental note to contact the person who’d placed the ad...once she took a shower. She forgot to do things like that most of the time--bathing, eating, sleeping, cleaning, calling her brother. Valus usually texted her, and always with a reminder to “Take care of yourself, Lyvie!” with a bunch of heart emojis. It was helpful, but made her feel bad that she got so sidetracked she couldn’t even do normal human being things. At least she was productive in other ways, even if she did live off a small variety of caffeinated teas and nut milk.

 _Ugh, I need to keep working..._ Sighing wistfully at the open laptop, she plodded down the hall to her bathroom. There was no tub, just a walk-in shower that she’d added a nice showerhead to. Her hair was too thick for the meager trickle of water that she’d had to deal with when she first started renting the apartment. The old one was stuffed in one of the drawers, waiting to be put back on once she moved out. She turned on the faucet and let the water run hot while she undressed and carefully extricated her hair from the elastic wrapped around the bun it held in place. That was her default look these days; her bangs were even long enough now that she didn’t have to use a clip on them, which was nice. Her scalp protested as she shook her hair free, throwing the elastic on the counter.

 She didn’t even bother to look in the mirror before stepping under the water. It was something she used to do obsessively, turning this way and that, trying to love her curves and the way her muscles made her look thicker. Her frame was small, she knew, but she’d thrown herself into intramural cross country and swimming during college and put on some bulk. Now she tried to just avoid mirrors; as long as she was busy with this research there was no way she’d care enough to look good. Who was she trying to impress, anyway? The interns? The thought made her chuckle.

 Just as she was wrapping up her shower--trying to squeeze out the rest of the slimy conditioner, as usual--her phone went off in the other room. “Just a second!” she called before realizing the person calling couldn’t hear her. They’d have to leave a voicemail. Even so, she hurried as best she could and toweled off, throwing her hair up in the fluffy terrycloth when her body was mostly dry. She threw on her cotton robe, hating the way it stuck to her damp skin. Normally she’d walk around naked and air dry, but she’d left her windows open and her neighbors were creepy. Plus it was weird to talk to someone on the phone naked, wasn’t it?

 Her phone was sat beside her laptop; when she pressed the home button, a notification for a missed call from Valus--and a voicemail--showed up. She smiled and slid the alert to listen to the voicemail.

 “ _Hey Lyvie, it’s me! Uh, so just figured I’d call and see if you’re still alive or if you died from eating too many instant noodles. Call me back whenever. Unless you died from eating too many instant noodles. Love you!_ ”

 Lyv snorted, shaking her head as she tapped “call back”. The line rang a few times, picking up with a cacophony of what sounded like opera and her dad’s and Valus’ voices. She waited for a moment for the noise to die down.

 “ _Hey,_ ” Valus finally said, sounding out of breath. “ _Sorry, Dad had the music up. I had to step out._ ”

 “Oh it’s fine, now I’m just going to have that song in my head all day.” Valus chuckled on the other line. “What are you guys doing that requires such obstreperous music?”

 He didn’t even pause at the use of “obstreperous”. He was a writer, after all, so Lyv didn’t have to dumb down the colorful vocabulary. “ _Well we decided to paint the apartment, so all the furniture is like, shoved into the middle of the living room. I meant to send you a picture of Dad trying to edge the ceiling--we couldn’t find a ladder so he’s standing on a pile of books stacked on a chair._ ”

 “Vaaallll,” she whined, “you’re gonna kill him.”

 “ _Nah, if he breaks a hip I’ll just make you come back and take care of him for me._ ” His laugh crackled through the speaker, a ghost of what it was in person. Lyv laughed along, though knowing full well that if something did happen, she would have to leave all her work behind.

 She grabbed her mug and made her way to the kitchen for more tea. “Can I do it over Skype?” she joked.

 “ _I don’t think they’ve gotten quite that far in their developments, sorry..._ ”

They shared another laugh and the line faded into a comfortable silence. Lyvhenari tried not to think that it was like when they used to be around each other: quiet, just existing, but knowing there was always someone there when you needed them.

As she flicked the electric kettle on, she remembered the email from Cassandra. “I almost forgot, Cassandra sent me something interesting today.”

 “ _Your old professor?_ ”

 “I mean, she isn’t _old_ , but yeah. The one that helped me with my thesis. Anyway, she said somebody put out an ad for living in a lighthouse.”

 He let out a sound of intrigue, a short exclamatory ‘huh!’ “ _Why would someone want to have other people live in a lighthouse, is it like splitting rent or something?_ ”

 She shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “The ad said they needed help with maintenance and other stuff, so I guess it’s just trading labor for boarding. But what’s cool is that it’s on Estwatch, and you know how I’ve been needing more population samples of shorebird nests?”

 “ _Yeah, and you don’t even live near a beach?_ ”

 “Yeah... Well, whoever placed the ad stated explicitly that there were shorebirds--and tidepools! How cool is that? I don’t know if I should email them or not.”

 A long pause settled; Valus was thinking about something. “ _Estwatch is really far._ ”

 “Skype and cell service still works though, it wouldn’t really be any different. And it would actually be easier to visit you guys. I could just take a westward train from Ostwick,” she reasoned. The idea had popped into her head in the shower. As of now, she was all the way in southern Ferelden--she had to take a ship across the Waking Sea to get to the Free Marches to board a train, and that was so tedious.

“ _Hm. I guess so...how long would it be for?_ ” Whatever had been on his mind seemed resolved--or he was just putting on a happier tone to make Lyv feel better, which he was notorious for. And she always caught it. She didn’t call him out on it this time, though.

 “Just a year. Enough time to finish up a short-term project, grab some data for that conference.”

 She could picture him nodding slowly, mulling the concept over. “ _I think you should definitely find out more about this person though before you commit. Don’t want to end up in some weird dude’s basement._ ”

 “But the mystery is so gripping! Where’s the fun in actually knowing them?” she said in a playful tone, cracking a grin.

 A sigh followed her sarcasm. “ _Just don’t come running to me when it turns out to be a creep! I’ll only say I told you so._ ”

 “Ugh, you would say that. Hey, I’m gonna have to go finish this section. That book won’t write itself.”

 “ _Okaaayyy,_ ” Valus said, drawing out the word, “ _don’t work yourself too hard!_ ”

 She smiled; he was always saying that. “I won’t. Give Dad my love!”

 The twins exchanged goodbyes, and Lyvhenari was left with a pang of sadness as she hit the end button. Her brother’s and dad’s lives were moving on without her--she felt more distant every time she talked to one of them. Maybe it was just perception? Still, she wished she was there helping them paint and sharing in their antics instead of hearing about it secondhand. Although...it made for some funny photos. Valus usually sent her pictures of random, everyday things: his latte that the barista had drawn a cat in, silly faces he made, their dad doing something weird. She cherished them, and it gave her the opportunity to find interesting things about her day so she could reciprocate the messages. When you spent pretty much every day alone, well, there didn’t seem like much to focus on. _Maybe I need a pet. Or more plants._

The water in the kettle had stopped boiling, so she filled her mug and threw in a packet of vanilla-spiced tea. It was her favorite, something her dad always got her for her birthday. Apparently it wasn’t in the immediate area--she’d checked all the stores nearby and hadn’t found any. Quickly adding a splash of sweet syrup, she walked back to her desk still stirring the warm amber liquid.

Her laptop screen glared up at her, black serif text against a stark white background dotted with graphs and pictures from her experiments. The text cursor blinked where she’d left it at the end of a sentence about the chemical components of shorebird eggshells as compared to other birds’. She let out a gusty sigh that rattled a few of the papers on the desk. This was the exact reason she hated to stop working: once she stopped, it was so hard to get back on track again.

The task bar at the bottom of the screen showed what seemed like a queue of things for her to work on: the word processing application, the maps she’d been working on, a spreadsheet program... There was a lot of data she still needed to enter in that one. She riffled through the mess on her desk, searching for her calculations on population dynamics. Funny how, even with all these expensive programs the Circle had given her license to use, she still had to do her own calculus.

Where was that blasted paper? Multiple papers, actually. A whole folder, with tabs and labels and sticky notes, even.

“Ugh,” she groaned, scraping the myriad of notes back into some semblance of organization. She remembered putting the folder in a basket--one of her decorative ones that helped keep the clutter to a minimum. Well, unless one looked into the baskets. She pulled it from the nearby shelf, the metal wire scraping against wood. There was the folder, sitting atop Creators-knew-what. By pulling it up from its resting spot, she noticed a piece of notebook paper underneath with some old notes.

 

_Free Marches POI:_

_Wycome--check deltas, lots of stopover sites in coastal tidal marshes_

_Wounded Coast--need to see if stork populations still okay since Qunari development_

_Estwatch--huge coastline, probably good dune establishment: check for ground nesters_

 

Estwatch. She thought it had sounded familiar, and now she recalled. Before the Circle had chosen her team (really it was just her and some interns) to be in charge of cataloging shorebirds, she’d planned on just taking odd jobs here and there and work on her book. Sure, she’d have to collect the data herself, but she had always liked that. Being out in the field was...freeing, with no one to answer to but the flora and fauna and beaming sun. It was a lucky coincidence that what she was hired to do was the same thing she’d be doing on her own; the scholars in the Circle agreed to her working on her book as long as she prioritized turning in pertinent information they needed for their records.

But she’d never actually made it to the Marches. And Estwatch? Cassandra’s email was at the front of her mind. She was itching for taking inventory of an open coastline. Everything she’d seen thus far was either rocky cliffs or wetlands. But _sand_? Foreshore? Just the thought of all the different species that congregated there to forage for tiny shellfish was enough to make her giddy.

On the other hand, uprooting her whole life here... It wouldn’t be easy. But she figured she could at least send a message--what would it hurt? For all she knew, the ad could be answered already.

She slapped the red folder on top of the notes on her desk and transferred the basket from her lap back onto the shelf. Here goes nothing, she thought wryly as she switched to the email tab.

 

 **NEW MESSAGE**  
**To** : fenharel245@gmail.com  
**Subject** : Lighthouse ad

Good afternoon! I ran across your ad about the lighthouse and I was wondering if I could get any details on that? I’m a wildlife ecologist and I’d love the opportunity to get some research done in a convenient location. If the position has been filled, kindly disregard. Thank you!

\--Lyvhenari Lavellan

__________________________________________

 

Her finger paused over the trackpad before she clicked the “send” button. It was just an inquiry, she reminded herself. She wasn’t committing to anything yet. Like Valus had said, she should know more about the deal before she decided. Should she ask for a background check or something? How would she know if this person was legitimate? It was Estwatch, after all. Anything could happen.

With a burst of gumption, she tapped the trackpad--the email sent. She let out a breath and sagged against her chair, trying to ignore the impulse to tighten up her whole body to rid herself of the excess excitement. Her fists and jaw still clenched, though, and when she relaxed she felt a bit less on edge.

Now all she had to do was wait for them to get back to her, which would be easy if she preoccupied herself with her work. Scooting the chair up to the desk, she clicked back over to the word processing program and started typing with renewed vigor.

 

\+ + +

A sudden noise woke Lyvhenari with a start; she sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the duvet to her chest.

Beside her, the soft glow of her phone filled the room with a diffused blue light--and the distinct trilling sound of her alarm. Her eyes squinted involuntarily when she looked at the time on the screen. “Four thirty?” she slurred, flicking the screen to make the dreadful thing stop. Vestiges of sleep still clutched at her conscious, but the adrenaline from the blaring sound had fully woken her. She tossed an arm over her face as she sank back among the pillows--four of them, arranged in a little nest around her head. The arrangement was a natural process: through all her tossing and turning, she eventually rolled over and laid on each of them, folding them up under her head for a different position. She used to place them nicely at the top of the covers, but gave up when she kept finding them scattered about haphazardly every morning.

A thought popped into her head, just-awake emotions causing another twinge of anxiety. She lifted the phone she was still holding to her face and unlocked it, ignoring the way her eyes protested against the light. It was really late (or early, depending on perspective), but she hadn’t checked her email since she sent the query to the lighthouse person. Now, when her mind was too open to shut down thoughts of _Why is this important?_ or _Do we have to do this right now?_ , she felt the irrepressible need to check her mail.

She hit the app, waiting for the spinning loading wheel to go away and present her with however many unread messages she had. Apparently it was three. The one from an intern stood out the most, so she tapped it and read the pitiful excuse of why the sender couldn’t make it to check the amphibian traps this weekend (but he’d be glad to take on extra work to make up for the absence!). She cracked a half smile, replying with what she hoped to be a gentle, understanding tone. The interns were always so sweet, so grateful for having the opportunity to learn new things and get resume experience. It was why they made such good gofers.

As she was browsing the other two emails (some coupon deal and a newsletter from her alumni program), the phone vibrated with an alert and the inbox tab now read _Inbox (1)_. She pursed her lips as she went to investigate--and the shot of anxiety was back. It was the lighthouse person.

 

 **From** : fenharel245@gmail.com  
**Sent** : Wednesday, 04 Kingsway, 42 Dragon 4:43 AM

 **To** : Lyvhenari Lavellan [mail to: l_lavellan16@gmail.com]  
**Subject** : Re: Lighthouse ad

Greetings, Lyvhenari. Thank you for your interest in my ad. It is as yet unfilled. As the ad stated, I need assistance with groundskeeping and maintenance in exchange for living quarters and opportunities for whatever research you may wish to conduct during your potential stay. Since you are interested in the local wildlife, I might add that there are quite a few different types of birds from what I have noticed.

The living quarters are in the small house attached to the main tower. I reside in the tower itself, and you may have free reign of the house--it is in good condition with a fully functioning kitchen, two bedrooms (one with an attached bath), and an extra bathroom downstairs. The tower and house are connected via hallway, so you would have adequate privacy. The assigned duties may be physically strenuous at times, but not near the frequency as those of a fully functioning lighthouse. If you can lift fifty pounds, you should have no trouble. There are two gift shop employees, Sera and Krem, but if either of them are unavailable or if the tourist season is especially busy I may also need your help there.

If you are considering this opportunity, I shall state that I prefer a preliminary background check to be conducted due to difficulties I have come across in previous tenants. For your ease of mind, I will also offer mine--I understand that not everyone is comfortable moving in with a man they do not know. Please let me know if you are still interested.

\--Solas Harellan

__________________________________________

 

Well. That was blaringly professional, but soothed her nerves a bit to read it. This Solas sounded fine, if not thorough and detail-oriented--of course, she didn’t know him. Maybe it was just a feeling.

A thought crossed her mind and she read back at the time the email had been sent. Five minutes ago? Her incredulity was replaced with understanding when she realized that he probably had to wake up at a decent hour to start working.

She reread the message, trying to picture what it would be like, how she’d fit in there. It was good to know there were other people working there, so at least she wouldn’t be alone with some dude. She wondered if he was young or old--probably older, she guessed, because who had enough money to buy a lighthouse except old people? _So living in the same general building as some stuffy old coot. I can do that._

Besides, she really needed to have some long-term experiments in her book to be truly legitimate, but all the data thus far had to be collected in short bursts on field trips. Just thinking about all the work she still needed was making her tired. A renewed sense of fatigue pulled at her mind, forcing her to close her eyes. She locked the phone and flopped onto her side, making a mental note to text Valus about it in the morning before sleep dragged her under.

 

 

Morning came quicker than she would have preferred. She was used to waking up in the middle of the night--nightmares and accidentally setting alarms to “AM” instead of “PM” usually did that--but she was always so sluggish for the rest of the day. Today didn’t seem like it would be any different. Rolling over, she felt around until her hand encountered the hard, rectangular phone she’d shoved under her pillow. The time read 10:13 when she checked it. _I overslept._

After dragging herself out of bed (but not before sending Valus an excited text saying “He replied!!!!”), she went through her morning routine and hunkered down at the desk for a productive day. Or at least that’s what she told herself.

Why was it that when she needed to focus, everyone started texting her--but when she was bored and lonely, her phone was silent as the grave?

Her thumbs felt like they couldn’t move any faster over the phone’s keyboard. Was there such a thing as thumb fatigue? Maybe she should use different fingers to type. Dorian was in a mood today, ranting about the evils of _megacorporations_ and how his funding was _constantly being cut_ and _how was he supposed to help invent new pharmaceuticals if he couldn’t even fix his hair?!_ Well, at least he was entertaining. Vivienne had also decided to strike up a conversation, but it was far less laughable than Dorian’s tirades. Lyvhenari’s former classmate needed volunteers for her community outreach program...which she had to politely decline. They’d then settled into a deep but sort of awkward conversation about human population control methods. Vivienne could be a bit scary in her opinions sometimes, Lyv decided.

Finally, Valus responded. _What did he say?! Wait, it’s a dude? Lyvie you can’t live there with some dude!_

 _I’m a grown ass woman, Val_ , she wrote. _And he offered a background check._

His conceding grumble was almost audible. _Fine, then. I’d run him through a couple different systems too, just to be sure._

She waited, trying to think of a response, when another text blurb popped up.

_Are you really gonna go?_

The question caught her off guard. Was she serious about going? She’d told herself last night that she wasn’t committing to anything...but it felt right to go. She felt so stuck in the Hinterlands--all her friends had either moved or become too busy to spend time with, and she was always so involved in her own work that she had a hard time taking initiative with relationships, platonic or otherwise. At least back in grad school, Dorian had dragged her with him to bars so he could find her (and usually himself) a man, or at least a temporary lay. But then he moved off to Tevinter ( _Just like Tevinter, to steal my family and my best friend._ ) and they only saw each other through Skype. It was like she was becoming more and more of a hermit, and her mind was suffering for it.

She could feel herself unraveling at times. _Oh Creators_ , she’d think as her thoughts buzzed like fat bumblebees in her mind, _I’m turning into Mother._ It was not a pleasant thought.

 _I think I will_ , she typed to her brother decidedly, shaking off the thoughts. _Well, provided he doesn’t turn out to be a creep._

_I doubt he’d actually offer a background check if he’s done anything weird. ;)_

_Good point :P_

_Just promise you’ll come and visit! Dad was talking about you the other day, he misses you._

_Yeah, I miss him too._ She popped in an emoji with a tear dropping from one eye. _Oh hey, what was that picture?_

 _Oh yeah!_ The conversation was quiet, she assumed because the picture was sending. After a minute it came through--their dad, paint roller in hand (covered in a soothing shade of blue--she wondered who picked that out) standing on a stack of books balanced precariously on a kitchen chair. His face was just like she remembered from her childhood: kind, a little goofy, and wearing a contagious smile.

She grinned, saving it to her camera. _Wow, the majestic Dad in his natural habitat..._

_It’s truly a sight to behold._

Snorting, she clicked the phone’s lock button and set it beside her. Dorian and Vivienne had gone quiet at last, probably distracted by whatever they were supposed to be doing instead of texting her. She pulled up her email; it would be courteous not to leave Lighthouse Guy waiting.

   

 **To** : fenharel245@gmail.com  
**Subject** : Re: Lighthouse ad

I agree to a background check--are there any specific ways to obtain one or do you want to exchange links to the reports? I’ve never done anything like this before, sorry. I’m still interested; I can lift fifty pounds and I have some retail experience, so working in a gift shop should be no problem.

\--Lyvhenari

__________________________________________

 

She sent it off, trying not to overthink the method of getting a background check. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to pay... On a whim, she searched the internet for sex offenders database. The first one that came up seemed legitimate, so she plugged in the name Lighthouse Guy had given her. Solas Harellan. It was a pretty name--one that she hoped didn’t belong to a sex offender. The loading bar took some time to finish, but eventually completed with a blurb of “This person is not on our registered list of sex offenders.” Well, that was a relief.

 

\+ + +

 

Over a week had passed since Lyvhenari had learned of the lighthouse. She and Solas had been effectively communicating matters of business--exchanging background checks (both generously paid for by Solas), asking about pets (he had fish, but that was all), and otherwise feeling each other out.

The background check had turned out normal--she reiterated the results to Valus, who did a little snooping of his own on the man. “I don’t know, Lyv...he sounds pretty boring,” her brother had said. “I’m worried he might be the type to open doors for you or--gods forbid, help you put up your groceries.” He had added a dramatic gasp, never short on theatrics.

It was true, though. If the tone of Solas’ emails was anything to go by, he would probably end up being a polite (albeit slightly standoffish and professional) person. Well, it wasn’t like they’d be hanging out. He was essentially her employer--though the term employment was used loosely here.

The email Lyvhenari currently scanned over asked about potential moving dates.

 

 **From** : fenharel245@gmail.com  
**Sent** : Friday, 12 Kingsway, 42 Dragon 2:31

 **To** : Lyvhenari Lavellan [mail to: l_lavellan16@gmail.com]  
**Subject** : Re: Lighthouse ad

 

I think that would be fine. There is a post office down the street, actually, which may come in handy should you need to send physical mail.

I do not wish for this to seem impatient, but do you have an estimation of when you would be able to start your contract? Even just a general timeframe would be helpful.

-Solas

__________________________________________

 

The whole situation hit her like a brick.

“I’m _moving_ ,” she emphasized to the air. She’d have to find a new apartment when she got back. But this one was so cozy, and after three years of decorating and rearranging furniture and getting to know her neighbors and the landlord, it felt like home. Could she ask someone to watch over it for her? _For a year? Don’t be ridiculous._ She focused herself with a breath, massaging her forehead. There was so much red tape. Or at least, it felt like there was. Thirty-two years old and she still got overwhelmed with “real world" matters.

She straightened back up to reply to Solas. Her lease ended in two months, she wrote, so she could go then if that was enough time. She even threw in a smiley face before sending it off. While the two months went by, she figured she could get a storage unit to stick her furniture in. There weren’t many things in her possession. She fancied herself a minimalist, only holding on to what she needed and very few things that were sentimental--pictures, an old stuffed halla, “treasures” she and Valus found as children (an arrowhead, some feathers, some old Tevinter charms). She didn’t even own more than two cereal bowls, a situation Dorian fretted over every time he visited.

 _There, it’s done._ She clicked the send button and let out a breath. Two months.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m still an undergrad so I really don’t know how independent research works. So much for “write what you know”, eh?
> 
> This is meant to be a pretty casual fic without a ton of angst because I feel like the entirety of the Dragon Age franchise has plenty of that to go around.
> 
> I don't really expect this fic to get looked at but hey I mean if you like it let me know and I'll continue to write! And if you want to throw me plot ideas.....I'll credit you if I use them ;D


	2. Boring Travel and Solas Is a Huge Nerd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I am so sorry this took so long, I doubt anyone is even reading this BUT STILL  
> I'm the worst okay it's been *looks at watch* like five months or something idfk  
> Anyways here Lyvie is in Estwatch! Does anyone else think Solas is shady and [Snape voice] up to something? because when isn't he i mean

The train rocked and lurched, the movement only amplifying the ache that had pestered Lyvhenari’s stomach since she woke at dawn. She’d meant to take a nap in her modest cabin, but the passenger car’s constant swaying was doing anything but lulling her to sleep. Sitting up from her awkward position on the bunk, she bent over and rested her head on her knees. It helped a little.

She still couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. The apartment had been hard to let go of, but with most of her things in storage and the rest packed up with her, she figured she could always find another home. After all, that’s what her family had done since she could remember--going here and there on her mother’s whim. Her father had always obliged, the kind soul. She often wondered why, but it hadn’t been her place to judge his decisions.

Figuring she might as well do something with her time instead of sitting there zoning out, she burrowed through her backpack for her sketchbook and a pencil. The book was well worn; when she pulled it out of the bag she noted that the corner had been banged up even more. Now the little layers of cardboard showed through the fabric covering them. She rubbed her finger over them as if they’d just go away. “It gives you character, don’t worry,” she said to the book.

She made her way out of the cabin and to somewhere more...inspiring. Not that anywhere was particularly inspiring on the train, but at least she could find a spot with more windows. The dining car had a decent view and seats, so she wobbled against velocity a little ways down the train. There was hardly anyone in there except for an old man eating soup and a couple of ladies that looked very much like sisters. None of them looked at her when she entered. _Good_.

There was a booth near one of the wide windows; she slid into it and opened her sketchbook to the page after her last drawing. It was on the back of another page she’d already doodled on because she was running out of room. Soon she’d start cramming in little sketches on top of other drawings--it took her a while to make peace with starting all over again in an entirely blank book. She supposed that was what she was doing with her life, though. She laughed out of her nose at the cheesy analogy and put her pencil to work.

 

It was dark before the train blew the whistle for her station. _Finally!_ She snapped her sketchbook closed, stood, and stretched. The drawing had been finished for about an hour, but the stars out here were beautiful and she couldn’t stop watching the sky. It was the only thing that stayed still while the rest of the world was moving so fast outside.

Fighting the swaying, Lyvhenari made her way back to her cabin to gather her things. Not that there was much to gather anyway. She felt the train slow to a stop, brakes hissing, and grabbed the few bags she had brought.

The conductor was at the front punching tickets; she gave him hers and turned to head into the station.

And stopped.

This was it...she was here. It seemed like all the planning, all the preparations were for something intangible. It was just an idea, some distant notion. But now, standing outside the glass double doors and staring at the “Hercinia Transport Station” sign in big blue letters above her, she felt overwhelmed.

What if her employer-slash-landlord did turn out to be a complete creep? Or a douchebag? What if the provided furnishings were dirty and covered in bedbugs? Did Solas walk around in the nude, she wondered? _I do NOT want to see old guy junk._ She shuddered at the thought of whitey-tighties and saggy, wrinkly butts.

She started pacing without even realizing, her suitcase a now familiar weight in her hand. It didn’t make sense to turn back now. She couldn’t, not after making all the arrangements for her to move. No, she had no choice but to go through with it and she needed to just muster the courage to go through those doors.

People were giving her looks now; she brushed it off. She was dealing with an internal crisis, and if she looked like a crazy lady then so be it.

Halting her movements, she pulled her phone out from the pocket of her jeans and pulled up Valus’s text conversation.

_Valus, I’m stuck. I’m too nervous to go in the station._

His reply was almost immediate--he probably had already been on the phone. He usually was. _Da’fen, you have nothing to be nervous about._ She seriously doubted it, but knew he meant well. _Besides,_ another blurb popped up, _I bet you’re gonna knock this old nerd off his feet. This is an adventure, Lyvie! It might suck but it might be really fun, and you won’t know until you try._

 _Thanks, Val._ She popped in a few emojis for good measure, though they didn’t properly portray the warmth his words spread through her. Why was it that he always knew what to say?

_Yeah, well what are brothers for? Oh Dad said to tell you good luck and dareth shiral. He wants you to come visit when you can...you know, since you’re closer and everything._

_I will! I’ll call you tonight okay?_

_Okay sis :)_

Well her nerves weren’t completely steeled, but she felt better than she had a few minutes ago. She took a deep breath...and another before heading in.

The interior was classier than she expected, to be honest--vaulted ceilings, marble floors, gold filigree accenting rich brown wood. Compared to Orlais or Tevinter the design would still be considered rustic, but she thought it was beautiful enough for a transport station. The train platform was apparently at the back of the station, leaving her to walk through the bustling lobby to the “Arrivals” section at the front. That was where Solas told her he’d pick her up.

The thought was enough to bring back her anxiousness all over again. She was so bad at talking to new people. _Don’t screw up_ , she told herself firmly. _You got through a whole board of review just fine. This is just an old hermit who lives in a lighthouse. No big deal._

Her affirmations continued as she walked toward the rows of red leather chairs with her face down. There were a few folks there waiting to pick up their people, a few with signs. Her eyes scanned the group. Plump old lady with a huge hat, no. Tall skinny elf staring out the window, nah. White-haired dwarf in a milkman’s cap...maybe. She craned her neck to see his sign, frowning when it didn’t say her name.

It was then that the skinny guy turned, the movement catching her attention. His sign had been obscured by his back, but now that he was oriented in her direction.... _Lavellan_.

“Oh, shit.” _Please don’t be the dude, please don’t be Solas...he’s supposed to be old, not young--or hot! No, maybe it’s like an apprentice or something. An assistant._

The guy looked at her as she stood in the middle of the lobby, head tilted as if trying to figure out what the poor, lost girl was doing. His eyebrows raised when she started walking stiffly toward him with a look that probably screamed “I would literally rather be anywhere but here”.

He was quiet for a moment when she approached, so she stood there awkwardly shifting her weight.

“You are Lyvhenari?” He lowered the sign and offered her his hand.

“I am,” she answered, setting down her suitcase to shake his hand in return.

The grin he gave her was polite, if not a little forced. “Solas. It is a pleasure to meet you. May I carry your luggage?”

Unbidden, Valus’ words popped into her mind. _I’m worried he might be the type to open doors for you or--gods forbid, help you put up your groceries._ She bit back a laugh, turning it into a sort of normal-looking smile.

“I can carry it--thank you, though.”

He nodded in understanding and idly folded the sign in half. “The car is not far. We should make the last ferry to the island, provided there are no delays.” His accent was strange; she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, though.

“Oh, okay.” _Wow, what an intelligent response._ He looked fidgety, like he was ready to run out the doors if she made a sudden move. Maybe it was an Easterner thing...no one this far out seemed particularly warm, she noticed. She picked up her suitcase again, ready to follow him to the car. The handle hurt her fingers now where they’d been rubbed too long, but she hadn’t wanted to bother him with lugging her crap around. It was fine--hopefully they’d be at the lighthouse soon and she could sleep in her (possibly bug-infested) bed.

 

Despite all the people inside the station, the parking lot was relatively empty. A slight mist had picked up outside, rolling along the asphalt and creating ghostly shapes beneath the street lamps’ yellow light. It was a little creepy, to be honest: walking in an unpopulated area at night, in a strange place, with a strange man, miles and miles away from--no. She shut her thoughts down before they could get out of hand.

Solas cleared his throat and glanced down at her. He was a good head and shoulders taller than she. “I am pleased you answered my ad. I did not have high hopes that someone would accept the offer.”

“Well, I mean...” She tried to brush off her intrusive thoughts and gather her words; she’d almost forgotten about him, he’d been so quiet. “It’s a good opportunity. I’m looking forward to it. Though I...don’t really know anything about lighthouses,” she admitted. She’d never even been inside one.

He seemed to brighten at that, a more genuine smile curling his lips. “You will probably know a great deal about them by this time next year,” he said. “Admittedly, the lighthouse itself does not require much upkeep. It just happens that, when it does, the work can be quite extensive.”

“So you needed someone to help with it... What do you do that has you so busy?”

“I write,” he said, tone still light. “History, mostly. Some fiction based on it, when the whim strikes me. Though that’s more of a hobby.”

Huh. A writer, like Val. Though Valus wrote fiction almost exclusively--his latest book had something to do with alternate dimensions and artificial intelligence, but she’d zoned out for most of that conversation. “I bet those deadlines aren’t fun to deal with.”

He gave a little snort of a laugh. “No, especially after having to paint the entire lighthouse tower alone.”

Their conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence as they walked. She felt much better about the whole thing now that she had let herself act. So often she held herself back; it was why all her friends had gone off to pursue their own success and she’d stayed behind. University of South Ferelden wasn’t a big school, so she had made friends with varying degree programs--Dorian in pharmacy, Vivienne in PR, Cole in pre-vet, to name a few. But when they all went to different colleges for grad school, she couldn’t bring herself to do the same.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the jangling of keys as Solas pulled out the fob to unlock the car. A steel gray coupe blinked its lights at them, and its trunk popped open as he hit another button.

“Here,” he said, reaching for the suitcase. She let him take it and fit in into the trunk, suddenly aware of the uncomfortable pressure on her shoulders from her backpack. That went in the trunk too; she tried to stretch her neck as discreetly as she could. Her purse stayed slung over her shoulder, though, resting on the opposite hip. _I probably looked like a pack mule._

Solas closed the trunk and...opened her door? Since when did people do that anymore? She hesitated a moment, caught off guard, before smiling her thanks and plopping into the passenger seat. If that was the name of his game, well, she wouldn’t complain about a bit of chivalry. She watched him walk around the front of the car, graceful even as he ducked under low-hanging branches of an ornamental tree. Okay, so it was fine if he wasn’t old, right?

They were both quiet as he started the car and left the lot, stopping to pay the parking fee at the booth on the way out.

 

She took the chance to see what she could of Hercinia. It was mostly just dark woods and the occasional rich person home, half-hidden in the trees like some huge, angular brick bird in a nest. She’d once had dreams of being one of those people, of making it big with her research and sitting atop piles of money from royalties. Funny how the world didn’t work that way.

The interstate they were on began to show green signs that read:

**Hercinia Ferry Port**

**2 miles**

**Right Lane Exit Only**

 

As the signs counted down the miles, she found herself growing more and more excited. Well, not really excited. There was a slight bit of trepidation. But she’d kept her expectations of her new home low for a reason: if it was better than completely gross, she’s be pleasantly surprised. If it was completely gross...well, it was what she had been expecting, right?

Although looking at Solas now (covertly, out the corner of her eye), she seriously doubted her bed had any sort of infestation. He looked neat, well put together, and even his hipster-ish long mohawk didn’t make him seem any less respectable. His ears were so much longer than hers. It was superficial, she knew, but she always felt self-conscious of her ears. They were stubby, like half-breeds or those humans that got surgeries to look less like shemlen. That very notion pissed her off--everyone knew they were still human. They didn’t get ostracized, didn’t get those looks. At least, thank the Creators, at _least_ they didn’t go around getting fake vallaslin.

She let her thoughts drift a while more as the forest blurred by in the window. Solas exited towards the ferry and turned down a few roads, ending the constant stream of trees. They had ended up in a small, industrial part of town; there were a lot of dry docks and seafood shops, so she guessed the port was nearby.

“So, you are from Ferelden?” Solas said. She smiled at the small talk; it was the first thing either of them had really said since the parking lot half an hour ago.

“Ye--well, kind of. No. I’m from the High Reaches, technically,” she finally got out.

His eyebrows drew up in surprise. She forgot she hadn’t mentioned that--all she said in their email correspondence was that she was living in Ferelden. The topic of her origin had never really come up.

“That is quite far from the Hinterlands. And within the Tevinter Imperium. You are Dalish--was that not a dangerous area?” His tone wasn’t accusatory or patronizing, for which she was glad. Her impression of him would have been ruined if it was. Instead, he just looked sort of confused.

Her fingers idly traced the vallaslin on her chin. “It was. Our clan was protected, though--some law one of the Archons came up with many years ago. My grandfather told me it was to protect a Dalish lover, but I’m not sure how credible his stories are,” she answered, laughing at the memory of her wizened grandfather and his elaborate stories.

He chuckled with her, flicking on the signal as they pulled up to a red light. “I had not realized there were clans even so far north.”

“Few do. My mother was the one that dragged us away, and I spent most of my life moving from commune to commune.”

“Does she live with you in Ferelden?”

A shot of adrenaline made her heart skip. The conversation had been so light, she hadn’t even thought he might ask about her mother. She didn’t even talk about her with Valus.

“No, she’s...” _Dead? Passed away?_ She couldn’t just drop that on him, that was too awkward. He didn’t know. The silence dragged out as she tried desperately to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t seem like a social bomb just exploded in their conversation.

Thankfully, she didn’t even need to finish the sentence for him to hold up a hand. “I see. Well, Estwatch has been compared to a Dalish commune--there are community gardens, many craftsmen, even festivals. I hope you will feel somewhat at home during your stay.”

She let out a breath of relief. That was incredibly considerate of him--though she didn’t miss the sympathetic glance he sent her. It was fine; it was how most people responded, anyway. “I’m sure I will,” she answered with a smile that he returned.

 

When they at last reached the ferry, they were among the six or so cars that parked below deck. It was a little surprising; she knew the island was small, but she would have thought there to be more people leaving the mainland at this hour. _Maybe they all went home with the last ferry._

They made their way to the upper deck. Lyv tried not to stare at his ass as they climbed the stairs, but...well. Self-control had never been her strong point.

Now that they were just there, with no real objective besides waiting for the boat to reach the island, it was a little awkward.

“I’m, ah...gonna go sit,” she said, making a gesture towards the benches under an awning.

“By all means.”

She took that as her cue and headed to the seating area. The benches were metal but not uncomfortable, the slats placed in such a way to mold to a person’s natural form. She could probably lay down...what was it about traveling that was so exhausting? It wasn’t like she had even been doing anything. Or maybe that was the key?

After a furtive glance around to make sure no one was watching her, she curled up on her side with her arm as a pillow. She just wanted to be horizontal, comfortable, for a few minutes. The rock of the ship was pleasant, not like the train’s movements. Maybe this was what it was like to be a bird floating on the water, completely at the mercy of the waves but trusting enough in its own buoyancy to stay afloat.

 

“Lyv--” a voice murmured. Someone cleared their throat. “Lyvhenari, wake up.”

“Valus, stoooooop,” she moaned, slinging an arm over her eyes and shaking her head violently. He always woke her up just when she was good and asleep. Pest.

A laugh, then, soft and quiet. “I’m not sure who Valus is, but it sounds like he’s woken you up quite a bit,” the voice said.

That was _not_ Valus’ voice.

She sat bolt upright, eyebrows drawn up in confusion. “What--who? Oh.” Solas. Lighthouse Guy, in the flesh. She relaxed into the bench, finally coming to terms with where she was. Or rather, where she wasn’t. She had been dreaming with the intensity of nap dreams that she was with her family back in the Lavellan commune. Her heart squeezed at the memory of her brother pulling her hair to wake her.

“We’ve almost arrived,” Solas told her. He looked like he was holding back a laugh--barely, but she appreciated the effort. Heat spread into her cheeks as embarrassment hit her. _I can’t believe I fell asleep._

“Okay. Thanks, sorry I...” She couldn’t remember the words. Well, that hadn’t happened in a long time. Her dream had been in Tevene, and making the switch to trade tongue was taking longer than usual. “Paenitet enim dormiunt,” she finished, the words rolling off her tongue. She didn’t even care if he couldn’t understand. She was too tired.

She didn’t miss the way his ears flicked.

His head tilted then: that same little motion he’d done in the station, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. But the ferry’s horn blew, and the captain’s voice came over the speakers telling them to be prepared for offloading, and Solas just smiled and said, “Should we go to the car?”

She nodded and followed him to the parking deck, still trying to pat down her chagrin at having fallen asleep.

The metal of the boat hummed as the engines switched from forward to reverse, slowing their entry. The off-ramp was blocking the view of the dock, but she tried to look over it anyway as they went down the stairway to the parking deck. This was the first car ferry she’d been on and she was curious about how the whole process worked. With the ferry from Highever, all the passengers just walked on and walked off.

Solas unlocked the car again. She had walked ahead of him, though, and made a point to get her own door. For him to get it once was mannerly, but more than once was just...weird. He followed suit and slid into the driver’s side. The car was quiet when it started, she noticed, just a whisper of the engine.

Other people were doing the same as they prepared to unload and go their separate ways. The boat’s humming engine shut off and a light bump told them they’d arrived. She watched the ramp lower and her heart sped up. This was Estwatch.

The cars drove off as the light on the deck turned green, telling them the ship was safely docked and it was fine to go. Waiting seemed like an eternity with everyone going so slow. She tried very hard not to fidget, but ended up bouncing her leg as subtly as she could. Solas didn’t seem to notice--or at least he didn’t say anything if he did.

Finally it was their turn to drive off the ferry, second to last. She watched out the window, trying to see what the island was like. It was hard to glean any knowledge thanks to the darkness, though. Aside from the docks, there were few lights. The ones that lit the streets were old-fashioned gas lamps, the kind one only saw in historical towns or those ritzy neighborhoods that tried to be charming and classy. She suspected Estwatch was not actively trying to be either adjective, but from what she could tell it managed to have that sort of feel all on its own.

They exited the station, once again stopping to pay at a booth on the way out. Solas had a fare card that expedited the process; she wondered if he used the ferry often. _Probably_.

While the other cars continued down main roads, Solas turned left down a road that didn’t even have any lights. Now she couldn’t control her fidgeting. _What if this was all just a lie to lure me out here so he can kill me? Oh Creators this was so stupid, he’s too nice to be a normal person, he has to be a murderer or something..._

The thoughts continued until she was very near panicking, and when Solas cleared his throat to speak she nearly jumped out of her skin.

His brows furrowed, but he went on. “I keep a few bicycles on the porch--the blue one should be your size, but you may have to adjust the seat. You are welcome to use it should you need anything from town.”

She nodded. “Thank you.” Her voice was weak. It was silly to be conjuring up all these notions, she knew, but suddenly this whole deal seemed too staged. _Stop, you’re imagining things._

Solas turned off the asphalt onto a white gravel road that shone in what little light the moon beamed down. It was a steep incline that curved hard to the right, and yellow reflectors glinted on the guard rails. A lighthouse on a hill, then? She still hadn’t even seen the building, and she started to ask as they rounded the curve when she noticed a hulking figure against the sky. It simultaneously blacked out the stars and blended in with the shadows.

“It’s black?” she asked, shoving her trepidation aside and ducking to look at its height from the windshield.

“It is.”

“...Why?”

He grinned and flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Sailors used it as a landmark during the day. If they were disoriented, they would see the black lighthouse and know they were off the coast of Estwatch.”

“What if they got it confused with another one?”

“They wouldn’t. Each lighthouse is painted differently for the express purpose of identifying its location. For instance, Wycome has a unique tricolor paint job. Sailors know that it is the only lighthouse with that design, and therefore associate it with Wycome’s port.”

She liked the way he explained things; it was calming to listen to. “Oh. That makes sense. But why black?”

“It’s easy to see in the daytime, it’s different, it’s aesthetically pleasant...I’m not really sure of the reasoning. I can only speculate,” he answered with a shrug. “I have noticed that the light-absorbing quality of black helps with the electricity bills. It does get quite cold here.”

Strangely, in all her preparations, she hadn’t even thought of the climate. It was a good thing, then, that she had warmer clothes being shipped over. She hadn’t been able to fit everything in her suitcase, to her dismay.

The black tower loomed closer as they approached, too tall now to even see from her vantage point in the car. The incline leveled out and Solas pulled up in front of a two-story building made of whitewashed bricks. It stood out against the dark landscape, contrasting well against the massive column it was attached to.

“Whoa...” she breathed. This was where she was going to live? It was just small enough to be quaint, but there would be plenty of room for her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Solas flash a smile. “That was my first reaction as well. I have done my best to make the interior reflect the charm of the outside.” He turned the key in the ignition, cutting off the engine, and popped the trunk.

She took it as her cue to stop staring at the building and get her stuff.

Solas followed her to the back and grabbed her suitcase again, lifting it out of the trunk with ease. It was fine, she supposed, to let him do that. Wasn’t it? Should she tell him she’d get it? But then he was already walking to the door; the keys jingled as he fumbled for the one to the house. She snatched her backpack up and closed the trunk before trotting after him.

He nudged the door open with his foot and it swung wide to reveal a pristine hallway that reached all the way to the back of the house. A lamp had been left on a table, casting a warm glow over the hardwood floors and white-paneled walls. Her eyes bugged. It was so...clean.

The pause went without notice as Solas opened a door to the right and swept his hand towards the threshold. “This is the main part of the house, where you will reside. If you’d like, I can show you around...?”

She wasn’t used to people being so accommodating. She thought about telling him it was no problem, that she could figure things out, but it seemed so standoffish. _Oh yeah thanks for paying me to live here, go away_ , it would probably seem she was saying. So she smiled and said, “Yes, that would be helpful,” as she hitched her backpack higher onto her shoulder.

It seemed to be the correct response. His genteel expression dissolved into something more natural. Had he been standing on ceremony for her? Perhaps he was just as nervous at having some strange woman in his house as she was at living in some strange man’s house. Besides, he probably thought she was awkward and non-conversational. It really had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the fact that she was stepping way out of her comfort zone...but still.

He only nodded at her response and flicked on a light in the same motion. The room they were in appeared to be a foyer of sorts that split off into two rooms opposite each other. A flight of stairs was the focal point of the small space, their sharp angles softened by the wing-backed chair that sat in a niche where the stairs turned. “The living room is to the left--I recently purchased a new television, but I’m afraid the island doesn’t receive cable. That’s the kitchen,” he said, nodding to the right at the room adjacent to the foyer. “But first perhaps I should show you to your room.” His voice was uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing things in the right order. He started climbing the dark wooden stairs that stuck out so starkly from the lightly colored walls.

“Why live in the lighthouse if there’s a room here?” she questioned as they ascended.

There was a second of silence, as if he’d never even asked himself that and was figuring out what to say. “I...am partial to the way the walls curve.”

“But don’t you need a kitchen? And other...house stuff?” _A bathroom?_

His subsequent snort was soft, more like a textured sigh. “There is a basement beneath the tower that contains a small kitchen and--” he smirked over his shoulder, “-- _house stuff_. I do most of my work in the study.” They’d reached the top landing now. He stepped into a dark doorway and flipped another light switch, illuminating a very finely decorated bedroom. Stark, but modern and nice.

“This is the master bedroom--I assumed you would prefer it to the other, but you are welcome to either one,” Solas continued as he set down the suitcase and walked to a trunk at the foot of the bed. “Blankets are in here should you need extras.” The bedroom was as nice as the rest of the house...and probably bigger than her entire apartment.

 

Solas continued on his tour, showing her the rest of the upstairs and a few useful things downstairs. She noted with mixed feelings that there was already some food stocked in the fridge. Had he gone out of his way to get some groceries to start her off? It was a very kind gesture, especially since she had come with nothing but a bag of granola and a container of almonds. Honestly, she’d planned on just eating that for breakfast and getting more substantial things later in the day. It wasn’t like she was used to eating regular meals.

He left her at the door to the hallway connecting the house and the tower, bidding her a polite good evening. His smile, now that he’d overcome his shyness, was contagious. It spread across his face like a cloudless sunrise--slow at first and then beaming.

Lyvhenari closed the door softly after him, turned her back to it, and slid down the painted white wood. What a day. She wasn’t as tired as she would have expected herself to be, and the hard rectangle of her phone pressed into her butt from where it sat in her back pocket. _Valus!_

She slid it out and pressed his name on the screen, waiting a few rings before she was greeted with a drowsy “Hello?”

“Hey Val! Are you asleep?”

There was a ruffling of papers and she heard the creak of his wooden office chair. “No, I was just--shit, what time is it?”

“It’s only ten! You fell asleep working again, didn’t you?” He couldn’t see it, but she rolled her eyes and smiled anyway.

“Yeah, damn, I guess I did. Well, did you make it? Are you still at the station?”

And just like that, he was up and running. Classic Valus. “Ha, no. You wouldn’t believe it but...he’s not old. He’s actually pretty cool--he’s a writer like you, and he knows a lot about lighthouses! I was pretty impressed, actually.”

Valus’ laugh crackled through the line. “Well if he keeps up a lighthouse, you’d think he would know about them. Wait so he’s not old? Or weird?”

“Well he might be weird. I haven’t exactly known him long enough to tell. This house is awesome, though. I’ll have to show you later.”

“Send me a video or something! So there’s other people around? You aren’t too isolated? And how’s your cell reception out there?”

She sighed. That was also very Valus: playing the worried, overprotective mother hen. “It’s right down the road from the main drag, I think, so it’s fine. And my cell reception is actually better here than it was back home.”

“Hm. Okay. Well the second you feel like something’s off you call me, okay? Don’t brush it off. I know you’re excited to study those birds but I don’t want you getting catfished or something.”

“I know, Val. I’ll keep in touch, I promise. I’m gonna let you go, though--just wanted to let you know I got here okay.”

“Alright, I’m glad you’re safe. Goodnight, lethallan.”

“Night!”

It wasn’t like the phone call made her any more prepared to sleep, but she could at least make an effort. Getting her sleep schedule back on track would be important; being involved with field work again meant having to be ready for very early mornings.

Tomorrow would be a day for scouting, she decided. Before she did anything, she’d need to scope out what she’d be working with--in both senses. She wondered if she’d meet the other people that worked in the shop, or if Solas would have any work right away for her. He hadn’t said anything...maybe he was giving her some time to settle in? As she pulled on a T-shirt and some faded pajama shorts, she made a note to ask him if he needed help. She couldn’t fully settle in until the rest of her things arrived, anyway.

After rooting through the trunk for blankets, she made herself a nest in the bed and tried to shut her racing thoughts down. Unfamiliarity and unease brought on restless sleep filled with flashes of flicking ears and black towers too tall to be real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Lyvhenari says in Tevene (Latin lol) is along the lines of "sorry for sleeping"...Latin nerds, please feel free to correct.


	3. Birds and Awkward Social Exchanges

Morning came slowly. Lyvhenari woke up the first time to just the slightest bit of light illuminating the curtains; the next time, presumably a few hours later, the entire bedroom was bright. She burrowed under the covers for a moment, trying to calm the sudden panic that came with opening her eyes to an unfamiliar place.

A few minutes later she pawed her way out of the blankets and took a deep breath of the comparatively fresh air. It didn’t smell like home, she decided. But then, what did smell like home? She’d never really had one...the closest was her apartment near the University of Southern Ferelden. It had seen her best and worst years, and she had the same place all through college. Luckily the university offered doctorate’s degrees, so she never had to move. She would find a home one day, though, if she ever managed to stay in one place for long. Flightiness was a trait that her mother had unfortunately rubbed off on her.

Next to her, the phone jingled and buzzed simultaneously with an alarm. She quickly turned it off, hating the cheerful electronic music at such an hour. The clock on the screen read 8:00, which was about as early as she could manage. It was too late though--the birds were already off finding food. _You’ll have to get used to early mornings again,_ she reminded herself. It had been nice getting up late. Her school years were filled with days of waking up before dawn to catch the rising of the birds. During a few of her internships, the team would go out during colder months and collect the bodies of birds that had died of exposure in the night. One of her professors had remarked that the reason birds sang in the morning was to announce their survival to the others. She still wasn’t sure if it was true or not.

It took a monumental effort to drag herself from the relative shelter of her blanket nest, but eventually Lyvhenari slinked from the bed onto the hardwood floor. Firstfall brought an unwelcome chill to the entire room that seemed to settle on her feet and make its way up to the rest of her body. Ignoring the goosebumps that followed, she rummaged through her luggage to find a warm oversized sweater and some of her warmest leggings. Lighthouse Guy--Solas, she chided herself--wouldn’t be seeing her in pajama shorts if she could help it.

After her morning rituals were completed she opened the blinds on the two windows her bed faced. The view was unexpectedly amazing, with a cheer that chased away any of her doubts from the night before. Even in the chilly weather wildflowers bloomed, left to grow everywhere but the manicured lawn inside the white picket fence. It was incredibly charming.

Now excited to survey the rest of the property, she slipped on her boots and bounced downstairs, only stopping to analyze the contents of the refrigerator. Solas had bought her some berries, which she was surprised were in season, along with a few bagels, milk, and three different kinds of cereal. Honestly, it was more food than she’d usually had in her apartment. The kind gesture made her smile as she crammed a few handfuls of the berries into her mouth.

She hadn’t absorbed too much of the building’s layout last night, so when she walked through the entryway of the house she was a little disoriented. To her left was a closed door, and down the hall to her right was another closed door. So one had to lead to the outside? She walked to the right and tried to quiet her thudding steps. Old houses seemed so much louder. Before she could put her hand on the knob, the door opened. She jumped back, an innate response to flee the unexpected event, and ended up in an awkward half-lunge in front of a surprised Solas.

“Oh, sorry. Sorry. I was just--this is your door?” Lyvhenari let out a breathy laugh and straightened, cursing the red she knew was creeping across her cheeks. “I thought it was the door to the outside, but I forgot and...” She cleared her throat to start over. “I was trying to find you. See if there was anything you needed me for.”

Solas’ ears tilted forward a bit, and his quizzical expression morphed into something more like amusement. “Well, here I am,” he said, spreading his hands a bit in presentation. “There is nothing to be done at the moment. As sunny as it is, I fear the vacation season is ending.”

She nodded solemnly, a show of her understanding, but inside she was relieved. That meant she had longer to get used to her place here, and longer to do research without having to worry about working on the grounds all the time. Still, it was likely that repairs and maintenance were mostly done in the off-season.

“I was hoping to catch you,” Solas continued, his face brightening as if he remembered something. He walked towards the large bay window on the far side of the hallway, the one above the slim table and lamp she’d seen last night, and pointed toward a generic dry erase board hung on the wall. “I put up this up last night. Should there be any tasks for you, I will write them on here along with potential times at which they need to be carried out. Usually I work in the late morning, before it gets too hot--of course, that should not be an issue now that the weather is turning.”

“That’s helpful, thank you.” She smiled gracefully, genuinely pleased that at least a modicum of uncertainty was taken away. “So if you don’t have anything for me to do...”

He shrugged. “Then feel free to do as you wish. I understand you have your own agenda with your birds. Today would be a fine day for observing them. They seem to be enjoying the low tide.”

“Really?” Her voice rose in pitch and stopped just shy of a squeak. _Stop, he’ll think you’re weird. Not that he already doesn’t._ She cleared her throat again. “I’ll go down there then. Thanks again...I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yes, I will be around,” he said with a smile as gentle as his words before nodding politely and making his way out the actual front door.

Lyvhenari watched him walk past the window towards another, smaller building across the yard. Maybe that was the gift shop? She’d find out soon enough, she supposed. That is, if he didn’t end the contract on account of her being too weird. She needed air. Following Solas’ tracks, she stepped from the hallway into the weak sunlight of early winter. The light was welcome on her face as she absorbed what little heat it put off.

The view from her room made everything seem smaller; when she was on the ground, though, she realized that the area was decently sized. The grass beneath her feet was dry and brown, having already gone dormant for the winter. It still retained a spongy quality though, and she wished she didn’t hate the cold so much or she’d go barefoot. She followed the perimeter of the fence and made note of all the historical objects that were strategically placed around the yard--an old anchor, a wooden contraption that apparently was for making tiny boats, some pole with a hook on it that looked like it could be used for fishing.

Maritime history had never been an interest of hers, but she could see the appeal. Civilization was built, for the most part, around the sea: trading, fishing, diving for salvage. A flurry of movement caught her eye, and she looked over to the anchor just in time to see a gull alight on the top. Instantly her mind raced through classifications. _White plumage, two black bars on chest, black ring around neck...not merchant’s gull, too thick...maybe Eastern barred? No, beak too red._ Too early for her to decide, the bird flew away towards the shore. She made a mental note of its attributes and jogged back inside to snag her field guide and binoculars from her pack. The items were unwieldy albeit necessary companions. The field guide even contained a few dichotomous keys for the trickier birds, the ones that looked almost identical save for a sightly longer tail or some obscure marking the other didn't have.

Armed and ready for action, Lyvhenari followed the gravel path down the hill. It was the same one they’d driven up, but it looked much different now. The same wildflowers that dotted the outer limits of the property sprouted here as well, bunching around the wooden posts holding up the guardrails. As she walked she made note of the bird call orchestra. There would be many, she assumed, all trying to fatten up for migration. Eventually the gravel gave way to asphalt, but to her right were small sand dunes that appeared to still be recovering from a recent storm. She marched into the sand, purposefully picking a path that ran between the dunes instead of over them, and stopped.

The beach had _hundreds_ of birds.

The smile that spread across her face came completely unbidden as she dropped to a crouch and dragged out her binoculars. With the assistance she could make out at least thirteen different species--she bit back a squeal.

Most of the species were recognizable, though there was a handful of the mysterious white gulls like the one she’d seen on the anchor. Their numbers seemed to be the lowest at first glance. Their behavior was interesting, as well: instead of flocking together or even remaining solitary, they flew with groups of pelicans. “But why? What are you crazy things?” she murmured aloud to herself as she adjusted the focus on the lenses. There were no answers and her eyes hurt after a few minutes. She flipped through the manual until she reached the _Gulls_ section. It took until the third page before she found birds similar to the ones she was seeing. The only one that stood out was, in fact, the Eastern barred gull. “Huh.”

 

+++

 

She spent the better part of three hours on the beach with the birds, making notes of their behavior and estimated numbers. As she slogged back up the hill she made plans for tomorrow to go out and set up sampling plots...she’d have to see if there was a hardware store in town where she could buy wooden stakes and some plastic construction tape. Setting it up without help would be a pain, but not impossible.

The sun was high above her when she reached the lighthouse. The cold kept her from getting heated, but sweat still made her shirt uncomfortable. She ignored it. The building not attached to the tower was just across the yard, and within she could just barely make out the outline of dark hair and long ears. It was probably weird to stare. Still, she stood peering into one of the windows from the other side of the brown lawn.

He was reading a book or something, languidly slouched over the cashier’s counter. Suddenly the idea that she hadn’t done any exploration of the grounds seemed something to be ashamed of. She moved to the front of the lighthouse, noted the heat of the sun radiating off the black paint even in the cold, and hopped inside. It was much bigger than she’d have thought. The inside was white painted brick that gave it an open feel, enhanced further by arched windows placed evenly along the wrought iron staircase. She whipped her phone out of her pocket and snapped a few pictures of the view. At the very center of the room, in the middle of the stairs’ spiral, was what looked like a shallow well built into the checkered floor. It contained nothing but dirt. _Maybe Solas would tell me about it._

A placard on the wall next to the first step read “Warning! Climb at your own risk!” with a list of health issues that might be affected by climbing. She shrugged and began the ascent. The metal stairs clanged with each footstep as she spiraled upwards, always with one hand on the railing. Not that she anticipated falling, but...just in case. A few spots here and there had succumbed to the salty air, the exposed rust rough on her fingertips. She was winded by the second landing--embarrassingly so--and sat down on one of the provided benches. There were a few framed informative articles on the history of the area which she would have read if she could have concentrated over her panting. Exhausting though the stairs were, the tower became the subject of her personal vendetta. She looked up and counted three more landings. Ugh.

By the time she reached the top she was covered in sweat despite the season, the moisture sticking uncomfortably to her hair and clothes. But she’d done it, and the view was well worth the climb. Through the windows that encircled the giant light, she could see the entire coastline. Ships chugged along the water both close and far; some sailboats bobbed lazily near the shore. There were quite a few fishing vessels that dragged their trawls along behind them, the sailors hoping to make their quotas and maybe then some.

It could have been several hours or just a few minutes that Lyvhenari watched the bay. Time seemed to lose meaning high in the air, as if she was just a cloud drifting by, an outside observer to the lives below her. She would have stayed even longer, but she was interrupted by a demanding growl from her stomach. She headed back down on wobbly legs.

When she reached the ground, she heard someone call out.

“Oi! Smarty pants!” A lanky girl in yellow plaid leggings was waving wildly from across the field.

_Smarty pants?_ Lyvhenari went to her, puzzling over who this girl was. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah actually. Ol’ grumpy went to town and told me to find you.” The stranger stalked closer, picking her feet up dramatically in the grass. “Anyways, he just wanted me to give you the run down of the shop. Name’s Sera, blah blah introductions blah.”

Lyvhenari grinned and gave a little wave. “Nice to meet you, Sera,” she said warmly, hoping to come across as pleasant and easy to work with.

 “Yeah, yeah. Come on,” Sera grumbled. She high-stepped back to the gift shop, not even bothering to see if Lyvhenari was coming.

 She followed the other girl back and tried to scan through all the past jobs she’d had. It wasn’t that she was nervous, but it had been a while since she’d done anything other than research and write. Working in retail--even just a little gift shop--felt like a huge throwback to her undergrad days when she had to scramble to make a living. Two jobs, full time school...it was a wonder she graduated so early.

 The door creaked as Sera opened it, the motion making little bells jingle from their place on the handle. A blast of warm air tumbled out that smelled like old wood and fresh paint.

“Alright, well it ain’t nothin’ special. Just postcards and snowglobes and all that shite.” Sera waved her hand dismissively at the space as Lyvhenari walked in. “I don’t even know why Grumps asked, I mean it’s just like every other shop you’ve ever seen, innit?” She barked out a laugh.

  

They spent the next ten minutes going over stocking the shelves, the register computer, taking inventory, and finding things to do when there were no customers. Lyvhenari was relieved to hear that Solas had no problem with them reading books or being on their phones as long as there were no customers, and provided the store was tidy. Far too often she’d worked for places that had you constantly on the move so that your back hurt and your feet were screaming in under two hours.

Sera perched on the stool at the register, gripping the seat and looking very much like a skinny frog with her knees on the highest rung. She gave Lyvhenari a curious head tilt. “So you’re from...?”

“Ferelden, for simplicity’s sake.”

“Oh right. I’ve been there a few times, but I like the stuck up Orlesian fancy pants. They’re fun to take a piss out of,” she snorted. “All those masks!”

Lyvhenari smiled and shook her head along with the girl. “I’ve only been to Orlais a few times. My brother did some book signings and I went with him. It was pretty--or the countryside was. The cities were a bit too...” she trailed off, looking for the right word. 

“ _Trop chic_?” Sera offered, her Orlesian surprisingly natural. Lyvhenari nodded. “Yeah. And there’s too many people--like seriously, how many people can you fit in a place? All of them can just bugger off I say, with their hairdos and their lace. I mean...they got good cakes though.”

“Yes, I’m at least glad there are bakers elsewhere that can mimic them,” she agreed. “Well, uh...is that everything?” She needed to get on with writing and figuring out more about the Eastern barred gull. The Circle had instructed her to send a report two weeks after she arrived on Estwatch. If she was extra prolific, maybe they’d even send her an intern.

Sera nodded and rocked back on the stool to the point where Lyvhenari was ready to steady her if she fell. “Yeah pretty much. I’ll tell Grumpy I found ya.” The stool sat back on the floor with a loud tap.

“Okay, well thank you for showing me around!” She gave a little smile and walked out the door, snorting at the responding _Yeah, yeah._

 

She made her way back inside and scrounged around in her bags for some snacks. Perhaps tomorrow she’d go to town for some real food--today, there was progress to be made. With a bagel and her laptop she plopped down on the couch for a long afternoon of filing through scientific journals to see just what people knew about that bird.

The sun had started to set by the time she began to transcribe the notes in her field journal to something halfway resembling a report. Her tea sat cold on the side table, which she sipped intermittently even though she grimaced each time at the temperature.

She was so involved in the laptop’s bright screen that she didn’t hear the front door open, or the light footsteps down the hallway’s wood floor.

Someone cleared their throat and she jumped violently, scattering papers and almost dropping her laptop. “ _Venhedis_!” she hissed. Her glare snapped to the source of the noise and her ears turned downwards reflexively. Solas stood just outside the door with only his head poked in, slender fingers gripping the white wood of the frame. Lyvhenari smoothed her expression and bit the inside of her lip at the grin he was trying to hide.

“I am sorry to disturb you,” he said politely, a blush of his own creeping across his face. “I knocked, but...”

Lyvhenari straightened, smiling despite trying to calm her wildly beating heart. “I didn’t even hear, I was so caught up in all this.” She gestured vaguely at the papers surrounding her. “Do you need something?” Part of her wondered why he was peeping--then she remembered she’d left the door open and that generally meant it was safe for someone to come in. She wasn’t used to living with other people.

Solas stepped a little more into view, now halfway in. His figure was tall for an elf, she noted, so that he took up most of the entryway’s height. It was refreshing after being around men that were barely half a head taller than her. He gathered his hair into his hands and draped it over his shoulder in what seemed to her like a pensive gesture. At least, she did the same thing when she was collecting her thoughts. “Did Sera find you? I would have gone over the gift shop with you myself, but I had...an errand.”

She tried not to focus on how ominous he made “errand” sound. “Yes, I think I could handle it if you needed me to,” she said with a smile she hoped was reassuring.

“I have no doubt.” He smiled back, his eyes scanning the papers spread around her as he leaned against the doorframe. “Were the birds as interesting as you hoped they would be?”

“And then some. I found a gull that isn’t widely studied--I hope to do some research on it before the flock moves on. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone that would help me set up sampling plots, would you?” It was mostly a joke, but she really did need some help--at least if she was to continue with the project she had in mind.

Solas huffed a laugh, but then his brows drew together in thought. “Actually, I have more free time in the off season. If you do need someone, I would be happy to help.” He ran a thumb over his lip. “I will admit I am curious about your work,” he added as a shy afterthought.

That was unusual. Most people blanked out when she told them about her research, or politely waved off her attempts at sharing the information she'd gathered. Granted, Solas was probably just trying to be nice, but she appreciated the effort. Would it be weird to invite him to the beach with her? He was probably a busy man...oh, what the hell. “If you’re free tomorrow I could show you the nesting sites...” She trailed off, unsure of his reaction.

His ears perked up at the suggestion, the right one dislodging a piece of hair he’d tucked behind it. “Perhaps in the morning, before my afternoon appointments.”

“That’s usually the best time. I hope eight isn’t too early for you--the birds wake up much earlier and they should be going about their day by then.”

“Yes, eight is fine. Shall I meet you here?”

Lyvhenari nodded with a smile, which Solas returned with a single definitive nod of his own. They sat there in semi-awkward silence for just long enough that she started fidgeting.

“Well,” Solas said suddenly, stretching his arms in front of him. His wrists poked out from beneath his crisp sleeves from the movement until he meticulously pulled the fabric back down. “I suppose I should turn in. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, then,” she replied. He flashed one last smile and walked down the hall to his room. 

When she heard the door close, she let out a breath that rustled some of her papers. This was more socialization than she’d had in months. She dug around for her phone and sent a frantic text to Dorian. Spending time with people and being charming was _his_ area of expertise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I guess it takes me six months to post a new chapter. Sorry if this one isn't on par with the first two--I've mainly been in a depressive episode since I last updated and it's been hell on my creativity ;o; 
> 
> Soon we'll see more interaction with Solas, and cameos from other characters! Woohoo! Isn't that exciting?! Aren't you SO EXCITED!!?!???! 8D
> 
> Also would anyone be interested in a poorly-drawn diagram of the lighthouse because....I have that.....


	4. More Birds, Less Awkward Social Exchanges

Dorian had told her to take advantage of Solas’ interest, his texts thick with nuances of waggling eyebrows and suspicious mustache-twirling. Easier said than done--Lyvhenari was used to saying as little as she could about her work to save herself the embarrassment of others’ disinterest. But the day was beautiful and she could hear gulls squawking in the lighthouse’s yard, so she pulled on her field boots, grabbed her pack, and trudged downstairs. The clock on the microwave told her she had three minutes to scarf down some food before Solas would probably walk into the foyer. As she dutifully chewed a granola bar, she tried to picture him in anything but business casual. All she’d seen him in so far was sharp button-downs and trousers, but that didn’t seem like a very good choice for plodding around in the sand.

 

Lyvhenari shrugged and shoved the rest of the bar into her mouth just as steady footsteps came down the hall. A knock sounded on the foyer door, followed by a quiet throat clearing. She swallowed the unbidden burst of nervousness and opened the door to let Solas in.

 

“Good morning,” he said, somehow managing to be chipper and serene at the same time. He was in jeans and a white T-shirt, more casual than she’d anticipated. Still, he pulled it off well. She was beginning to think that he could dress in a burlap sack and still look as put-together as a king.

 

“Good morning to you,” she grinned. His hair was up in a bun, little wisps curling at the nape of his neck; she realized now that he had a long mohawk rather than a simple sideshave. It calmed her down that he at least _looked_ excited. “Let me grab my bag.” Solas nodded and leaned casually against the doorframe like he had last night, hands in his pockets. She walked over to the couch where she’d left her pack, wondering if he would be just as relaxed in someone else’s home.

 

She didn’t need that much for just showing Solas the birds, so she left the hefty field guide on the coffee table. After this she had plans to ride into the town and see if there was a hardware store or somewhere she could buy supplies. Some of her equipment was among the luggage that hadn’t arrived yet, which was inconvenient but not an excuse for putting off things she _could_ do.

 

Solas straightened when she walked back towards the door, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Shall we go?” he asked. His eyes were so happy, like he had a juicy secret to hide. It was endearing, she decided. She nodded and donned the pack as they walked out of the house.

 

The beach was just as busy as the day before: birds of all types congregated in their respective areas, trying to forage. It was chilly, making Lyvhenari glad she had worn a jacket. Solas didn’t seem to mind the cold; perhaps he was used to it after living on Estwatch year-round. He was definitely not faking his interest, she noted with relief. As soon as they passed the dunes, his eyebrows rose.

 

“I had no idea there were so many here,” he said breathlessly, not taking his eyes off the array of shorebirds running from the impeding surf. “I have only been to the beach a few times in the past four years.” He chuckled and shook his head at himself. “It appears I have done myself a disservice by merely looking down from the tower. The birds seem less numerous from such height.”

 

Lyvhenari huffed a laugh. “Don’t worry, I don’t get to the beach much either.”

 

“And yet you do research on shorebirds?” He gave her a wry smile, catching the irony of her career choice compared to where she had been living.

 

“Yeah,” she said with a head shake, “it’s a long trip to Gwaren.” Movement just above the water caught her eye: two pelicans gliding over the choppy waves were followed by a small flock of the gulls she’d noticed yesterday. Hurriedly, she pulled out her binoculars and watched the birds through them. “Right over there are a few Eastern barred gulls,” she told Solas, placing a hand on his upper back impulsively to turn him in the right direction. He stiffened. She retracted her hand and gave him the binoculars, trying not to blush as she remembered the hardness of his shoulders.

 

He peered through the binoculars, tracking the birds as they flew together. “The pelicans seem not to mind their little shadows,” he mused.

 

“No, I don’t think they do. What’s strange is that I haven’t seen any of the gulls fishing on their own. I think they might be following the pelicans to find the best spots to fish...” She trailed off, caught up in thinking about how she would even start to set up a test for that. None of the journals she’d come across last night had mentioned the feeding habits of the gulls, so she thought that was a decent place to start.

 

Solas made a quiet hum as he continued to examine other birds, the gulls and pelicans having flown too far out to see. She watched him, noting the way he leaned toward something he was fixed on as if whatever was in the binoculars’ field of view had a gravitational pull.

 

She had zoned out while looking at him, but when he turned to her and smiled it reminded her that she was totally staring at him. _Creators, Lyv, get yourself together._ Well, at least he looked more amused than creeped out. “Um, want to see some nests?” she offered.

 

 

They spent the next hour or so walking on the beach, mostly quiet except for a few conversations where Solas asked her about this or that bird. She divided her attention between Solas, the birds, and scanning the shore for the most interesting shells. Her left hand was full of them now, little swirled ones and larger scalloped ones. She’d even found a tiny sand dollar only as big as her thumbnail.

 

Solas had mentioned afternoon appointments the night before, and she was just about to ask if he needed to be getting back when he slowed to a halt. “You know,” he began, turning to face her, “I have enjoyed myself more this morning than I have in many months. Thank you for coming with me.” He twisted one of the strands at his neck around his finger as he spoke, the moisture in the air keeping it lightly curled.

 

“Oh, you’re welcome!” Warmth crept across her cheeks and pooled in her stomach. How was he so nice? “It’s more fun with someone else.” Certainly more fun than the whole day she’d spent here yesterday--though watching the birds was entertaining enough.

 

He nodded in agreement. “Yes, it certainly is.” There was that look, like the one she’d noticed right before they left the house. It was like he was laughing through his eyes. In a good way, she hoped.

 

Luckily the beach curved into an impassable point and they had to turn around without her having to awkwardly bring up Solas’ work schedule. She clutched her shells as they walked, glad that she’d have some reminders from such a nice morning. The path between the dunes appeared all too soon; she found herself wishing they could have kept on walking down the beach, but the sun was creeping higher in the sky and they both had things to do.

 

Back at the lighthouse, she laid the shells out on the front deck’s railing to dry. She could feel Solas watching her, though he said nothing. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable--there was no pressure to make small talk, for which she was grateful. Small talk wasn’t her forte. After brushing the sand off her hands, he opened the door for her and they went in.

 

He didn’t head off right away like she expected, but stopped at the hall table and looked at her. “May I ask what your plans are tomorrow from eleven to two in the afternoon?”

 

 _What?_ Confusion must have shown on her face because he cleared his throat and said, a little less directly, “Sera had asked off for her shift in the gift shop. I had planned to work it myself, but I have an unexpected online meeting until one-thirty...I had wondered if we could split up the shift.” He put his hands on his pockets while he spoke.

 

“Oh, yeah sure!” Three hours was nothing in the grand scheme of things. She wanted to ask if she could bring her laptop to work on some statistical tests, but didn’t want to seem like she only cared about her own work. Maybe she’d just sketch or organize the shelves when there were no customers.

 

Her answered seemed to appease Solas, because he smiled brightly and wrote a reminder for her on the little whiteboard. “Thank you,” he said genuinely. “For any future work, I will try to give you more notice.”

 

“It’s no problem--my schedule is really flexible.” All she was doing was counts and plots...and unless she decided on an actual experiment with regularly-timed nest checks or something, she could easily fit in her new duties. She tucked her hair behind her ear, hoping Solas wouldn’t be late from talking to her.

 

Before she could say anything to end the conversation, he spoke up. “I am glad you are so willing to help. Believe me, it makes my job much easier.” He huffed a laugh that brought a grin to Lyvhenari’s lips. “I will let you continue with your day--should you need to visit town for anything, you are welcome to any of the bikes. I am...glad to have spent this morning with you.”

 

Her ears flicked at the words and his gentle expression. “Ah--likewise! Have fun with your...stuff,” she said lamely.

 

“I will try,” he laughed, giving a little nod and disappearing through the door at the end of the hallway.

 

She dropped off the pack in exchange for her wallet, actually looking forward to seeing the more of the town than a few lamp posts in the dark. It was a nice day to run errands--as much as she hated waking up early, she always felt more productive than when she slept in.

 

The bike Solas had mentioned was propped up near the deck stairs. It was cute, a cheerful light blue with baskets in the front and back. Its seat was already at the lowest setting, saving her the trouble of fighting with the clamp that held it in place. She hopped on and took off down the gravel; it was bumpy and a little nerve-wracking for how steep it was, but the road was short and within a minute she was riding on smooth asphalt.

 

There were more people in the town than she had anticipated--Estwatch was small, after all--though not anywhere near the numbers of Redcliffe. The other night’s impression of charm and poise were accurate: white clapboard shops and businesses lined the streets, red brick sidewalks in front of them dotted by benches and hanging flowerpots. Many places looked newly remodeled, perhaps an effort on the city’s part to look more appealing to tourists. Still, the whole area retained an old charm. She could picture a scene of rickety market stalls propped up on dusty streets, selling fish and hand-woven baskets.

 

She didn’t know any shops, since everything was locally owned. There were no big names, no neon lights or backlit signs. It gave her more of an excuse to explore and pay attention to her surroundings. She noted at least two cozy cafes nestled between other buildings, and after riding around for another fifteen minutes looking for a hardware store she decided to pop in and get something better than the granola bar she’d had.

 

She backtracked until she found the coffee shop whose front boasted a beautiful mural of a tree, its branches twisting around the doorframe and the wooden sign that read, contrastingly, “Dragon Blood Coffee Co.” Her bike didn’t have a lock on it, she noted with some trepidation, but she hoped that ten minutes wouldn’t be enough time for someone to steal it.

 

The inside was adorably unique, much more inviting than any other coffee place. The trunk of a tree was the main focal point, around which two- and four-top tables where arranged neatly. String lights hung from the exposed ceiling beams, adding a warm glow to the natural light beaming through the large windows. A rustic wooden wall proudly displayed various works of art from patrons, ranging from children’s doodles to beautiful drawings from someone of high skill. No one was at the counter, so she took the time to study the art. Many of the pictures were from the same person, she could tell by the style of the hatchwork and line weight. The papers were often crumpled, most with some drink spilled on them as if whoever drew them didn’t care what happened to them.

 

A deep voice from over the counter startled her from the pictures. “Welcome to Dragon Blood--sorry, I was in the back. What can I get for you?”

 

Lyvhenari blinked, craning her neck to look up at the huge Qunari with a patch over one eye. He looked out of place leaning against the counter wearing an apron, dish rag slung over his massive shoulder. “I, uh...I don’t know,” she laughed, dutifully peering past his horns to look at the chalkboard menu above the bar. “I’ve never been here.”

 

He hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I like my coffee as dark and bitter as I am. I’m gonna take a guess and assume you like sugar, though.” His tone wasn’t disparaging--in fact, it was rather friendly. “You like lattes?”

 

“I do, I think. I don’t actually drink a lot of coffee...” she said apologetically. “Mostly tea. But I do like sugar.” Fortunately for her dentist, she had an untamable sweet tooth. A latte was usually her first choice, but here there were so many flavor combinations. Rosemary vanilla bean? Embrium mocha? Oh, the one with rose and arbor blessing sounded interesting.

 

The Qunari grunted and folded his arms across his chest, biceps bulging. “In that case, I’ll suggest things Krem would like. You’re Dalish, huh? We’ve got a pretty good lavender elfroot thing. I think it tastes better with medium roast, but if you drink tea you’d probably like it lighter.”

 

Okay, this was officially her favorite place so far. This guy was so amiable and into coffee. “Yeah, that actually sounds great!”

 

He pulled out a paper cup. “This size okay?” When she nodded, he set to work hand-grinding coffee beans for the espresso. She let the comforting smell of coffee take her to a different time, when her dad would wake her up banging around in the kitchen for a mug. The memory was tinged with something darker--the memory of her foot cut on sharp ceramic from a mug her mother had thrown at her in a fit of rage. She’d needed stitches, and when the doctor asked how it happened she told him she had accidentally dropped it.

 

Shaking the distant memories away, she turned back to the drawings on the wall. “Do you ever rotate these out?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the milk steamer.

 

“Huh? Oh yeah, sometimes. Krem won’t let me take down the good ones, though. Says the world needs to see.” He laughed and rolled his exposed eye. The noise from the steamer stopped, and he poured the milk into her cup before adding the foam. “The guy that takes care of the lighthouse does them. He just draws for a little bit and tosses them in the trash like it’s no big deal. Krem digs them out every time and tacks them up there.”

 

Her eyes widened in surprise. _Solas_ did these? She didn’t know who Krem was, but Creators bless them for saving Solas’ drawings: she couldn’t stop looking at them. They were so emotional and organic, with motifs of celestial bodies and growling visages of wolves. Honestly, they reminded her of her own sketches but with more skill. How could he throw them away?

 

“Okay, I hope it’s as good as I made it out to be,” the barista said with a rumbling chuckle as he rang up her total on the register. “Anything else? A muffin?”

 

She ended up picking out a cinnamon streusel muffin, a berry scone with lemon glaze, and a triple chocolate brownie...for later, of course. Okay, they at least _tasted_ better than the granola bar. She slid a bill to the helpful Qunari and grinned. “I don’t need the change. Thanks for your help--I’m Lyvhenari, by the way. I’m staying in the lighthouse actually,” she thought to add in case he thought she was just a tourist.

 

Now it was his turn to look surprised. “No shit? I guess I’ll see you around, then. Name’s Bull.” He smiled warmly back.

 

“See you later, Bull,” she said, glad it would be true.

 

The coffee was _amazing_. The light roast was perfect, not too strong, and the flavors melded smoothly. Even better, it didn’t have the weird aftertaste that most flavored coffees did. She figured they probably made all the syrups in-house: it seemed like that sort of place.

 

It was a juggling act to hold her coffee and ride the bike at the same time, but she managed fine if she pressed the handle brake with only her left hand. She rode around for a bit, sipping her coffee and glad for its warmth. A cool wind had picked up and she was beginning to get a chill. The hardware store still wasn’t anywhere she’d been; maybe it was in a different area. Solas or Sera might know--she’d see Solas before the quirky gift shop clerk, though, so she made a note to ask him.

 

 

An hour later and she was back at the lighthouse, unloading groceries from the bike’s baskets. She’d come across a cute little grocery shop with a fine array of seasonal produce with signs claiming it was harvested from the community gardens. Now would be a decent time in her life to start cooking...even if she did hate the cleanup afterwards.

 

She had just set down the last paper bag when her phone started buzzing in her jacket pocket. It was Valus, she knew--the only person who called her. A peek at the screen confirmed it.

 

“Salve, frater!” she chirped in Tevene, trying to keep all the apples from falling to the tile floor after knocking the bag over in her haste to answer the phone.

 

“ _Salve, soror_ ,” he chuckled. “ _Feeling nostalgic for the Reaches?_ ”

 

Was she? Maybe a little, after the smell of coffee brought her back to the memory of days when her father and brother were close by. “Nah, I just keep speaking in common and it’s good to practice.”

 

He made a noise of approval. “ _Well how’s the spooky lighthouse and your super hot employer?_ ” His voice was teasing and she could hear his mischievous grin through the phone.

 

“Ugh don’t say it like that!” she giggled. “It’s fine--I went to the tower yesterday and took some pictures...except I forgot to send them...”

 

“ _Of course. Leaving your dear brother hanging as usual!_ ”

 

“Sorry! You’re not missing out on much, really. Mostly I’ve just been recording bird numbers. It’s pretty boring actually. The beach is nice though--Solas went with me this morning and I showed him the nests.” Had it really been just this morning? It felt like ages ago. That always happened when she woke up early--her days felt so much longer. Well they technically were, she supposed.

 

Valus gasped, whether in mock or genuine surprise she couldn’t tell. “ _Creators, you went to the beach with him? Isn’t that kind of a date?_ ”

 

No. It wasn’t, she was just showing him what she did for her research and basically the whole reason she’d come out here. “It was definitely not a date, Val. Besides, I’ve known him for like...three days.” She didn’t think Solas reciprocated any attraction, anyways.

 

“ _Okay well I’m just saying that people go on dates after like a couple hours of meeting each other. It’s not that weird._ ”

 

“Es stercus!” she laughed, shaking her head at the thought of going on a date with _Lighthouse Guy_ , of all people. “Although...”

 

She could hear her brother shuffle, and she pictured him leaning forward to hear whatever juicy thing she was about to say. Which he was, because he always did that. “ _Although? Uh oh._ ”

 

“Is’masa on’mala...” Her tone was devious enough to make Valus squawk.

 

“ _Aha! I knew you’ve been looking at his ass!_ ” he snorted, warm chuckles crackling through the speaker. “ _Damn, you should sneak a picture of him. Make sure you get the whole deal, too--I gotta judge for myself._ ”

 

Their banter continued in a similar fashion, with Valus making plenty of dirty jokes that sent her cheeks reddening as she nearly cried with laughter. Then her father wanted to talk; Valus put the phone on speaker so they could all talk. She told them more in detail what she was doing, described the town and the house and the beach, the coffee shop that she knew they both would love. They filled her in on their lives as well--the new paint job in the living room, Valus’ new agent who would hopefully be better than his last one, her father’s funny encounters with various people. It was more contact than she’d had with them in a while, and by the time they said their goodbyes she was feeling much more optimistic and reassured.

 

Except now, thanks to Valus, she was thinking about Solas in a way that she entirely _should not be_. She put her mind resolutely off the subject as she put away her groceries, finding places for them in a few empty cabinets and the almost bare space of the refrigerator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS IT ONLY TOOK ME FOUR MONTHS THIS TIME! I think that's a record lmao thank you guys for still being so enthusiastic about this even though I take forever. You're seriously the best, like I literally would not have kept this fic up if not for your support!!!! <3 ;o; 
> 
> Also here is the REALLY POORLY DRAWN first floor of the house! [It's so bad I'm sorry](http://imgur.com/BPrBzCy.png)
> 
> Finally, below are translations of Tevene (Latin) and Elven (Fenxshiral, Creators bless you) seen throughout this chapter. I'd like to add more multi-lingual...ness...so keep an eye out down here if you get confused!
> 
> LATIN  
> Salve, frater/soror: hello, brother/sister  
> Es stercus!: You shit! (used playfully here)
> 
> ELVEN  
> Is'masa on'mala: basically, "He has a nice ass." (poorly pieced together from Fen's lexicon by yours truly)


	5. Honey, You Got a Big Storm Comin’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight alcohol warning! Nothing crazy, just a little buzz for both parties to calm nerves and ease conversation. 
> 
> Fun fact, I actually had 3/4 of this done less than a week after I posted chapter 4...but then procrastination. This chapter is all over the freakin place just bear with me here. I hope it isn't as hard to read as it was to write ^^;

The next few weeks continued without much event, and surprisingly without a lot of lighthouse-related work. Lyvhenari suspected that Solas wanted to give her time to adjust--he seemed like that kind of person. She didn’t let herself get comfortable, though: every morning she went out to check the plots she’d finally set up, and every morning she checked the little whiteboard by the bay window in the hall. The only thing she’d had to do so far was run the gift shop.

Today was one of those times, and it was slower than usual thanks to the gloomy weather. Well, gloomy for most people. She liked drizzling rain and overcast days, and rolling thunder brought her peace that the sunshine never had. She watched through the shop’s window as the wind pulled leaves from where they hung delicately onto brittle twigs. It got colder by the day, and combined with the trees having mostly shed the trappings of the previous season, it was really starting to feel like winter was approaching.

Her eyes lost focus as she stared towards the spot across the lawn where Solas’ car usually sat. It was gone at the moment, but where she couldn’t know. He was gone a lot, she noticed. Certainly more often than she’d thought a historian and writer would be. With a sigh, she turned back to her laptop and continued the monotonous task of transferring numbers from her notebook to the proper spots on the spreadsheet.

Half an hour went by before the bells on the door jingled, the visitor’s presence heralded by a gust of wind so strong it sent postcards fluttering to the floor.

“Hello, how are--” Lyvhenari cut off when she saw it was Solas, who was struggling with simultaneously shutting the door and brushing his hair from his face.

“Lyvhenari,” he said as he closed the door with a mixed look of relief and annoyance.

“Solas? Need something?” He almost never came into the gift shop--at least not while she was working. In fact, he’d barely been around since they’d gone to see the birds.

He took his hair out from its bun and redid it. “I am not sure if you are aware,” he began around the elastic in his mouth before securing his hair with it, “but I heard on the radio that a winter storm is en route. It is rather early in the season, but I suppose the weather has no sense of timing.”

“A storm? Like a blizzard?”

“Closer to a hurricane. They occur every few years and can be devastating--the meteorologists are unsure of how strong this one will be.” Hair in place, he bent over and picked up the postcards that had fallen. “I realize this is sudden, but if you wish to evacuate I would recommend doing so no later than tomorrow. The ferries will shut down soon.”

She furrowed her brows, taking in the idea. This was a new place, a completely different region, and she was unaccustomed to the weather here. Evacuating would be wise, and a good excuse to go visit her family. _But the birds..._ she thought with a splash of trepidation. Storm surge, wind, snow--would the nests be destroyed?

Her worry must have shown on her face because Solas stopped what he was doing and moved to the counter. “Are you alright?” he asked with what sounded like real concern.

“The birds--all my plots and the counts--the nests...” she trailed off, bringing her hands up in a bewildered gesture. Would she have to completely redo everything? No, she couldn’t even do that. In the past few weeks all but the resident species had migrated, but it was the overwintering birds--including the elusive gull--that she wanted to study more. Of course most of them would either hunker down, flee inland, or try to avoid the storm entirely by flying somewhere else. But there were always some that didn’t make it, and if a population was already small, well...

Solas folded his arms across the counter, leaning languidly against it. “I am sorry the news did not reach us sooner. Information travels more slowly in Estwatch.” The softness of his face was outlined with sympathetic regret. “Should you choose to stay, I will do my best to help your project. I know how it is to lose research.”

She sighed, long and quiet, and met his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll stay--you need help, too.” Shoving the issue of the birds aside, she added, “I assume that means plywood and nails?”

“I pride myself in a more sophisticated approach,” he said with a smile.

“Oh?”

He made a motion towards the door, a sly smirk on his lips. Lyvhenari followed him outside where the wind threatened to knock her off balance before she found her footing. Solas led her to a shed at the furthest corner of the yard, one that she’d often wondered about. He unlocked it and slid the door open, revealing a space full of paint, ladders, buckets, and a variety of tools. It was hard to picture him using any of them, though.

“This,” he said, pulling out a sheet of corrugated metal, “is a storm shutter.”

“And...you what? Nail it on?” Maybe it was stronger than plywood or something.

“You and the nails,” he teased. “Come, we can put this one up together.”

He grabbed a little plastic box of some metal bits and they ventured back outside towards the gift shop’s window. Solas pointed at some knobs sticking out of the siding that were covered in plastic caps. He took off one of the caps, revealing a metal screw, pausing to make sure she saw before removing the rest. “Now the shutter fits on like so...” It looked easy enough to lift, but she held a corner to help him fit the screws into the holes around its edges.

“Well, it looks nicer than plywood. And no splinters,” she added happily. “Will it fall off?”

“Not if we remember these.” He opened the plastic box and shook it for emphasis, rattling a collection of wingnuts.

Now she understood--the nuts would hold the metal on, providing a secure cover for the glass. She took one out and twisted it on, flicking it until it was tight enough. “Should we do the rest, then?”

Solas had to bring out one of the ladders to reach the second story windows on the house. He had Lyvhenari stay on the ground and hold the ladder steady...which she wasn’t going to complain about because, well. She had a _great_ view. They made short work of it all, but the wind hadn’t made it easy.

“What else do you need help with?” she asked, looking around the yard for any loose objects that might need to be taken inside. “And when will the storm get here, exactly?”

“I believe it should hit us tomorrow night, if not earlier. There is not much more I can do for the lighthouse, but I had a mind to pick up a few things in town. You are welcome to come, if you wish...although if you need to secure your plots I understand.”

She turned toward where the yard cut off at the cliff, the beach and choppy water below it. The nests would likely be destroyed along with her plots, she knew. A calmness settled about her once she accepted the idea, replacing her worry about what she should do. The birds would come back and re-nest. She’d set up the plots again, do another count afterwards, mention the storm in her report...it would be fine as far as the research was concerned. “No, I’ll go with you.”

He nodded and rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them. “Then shall we take advantage of the car’s heater? My fingers seem to be frozen.”

  
The town was bustling with activity, shop owners either putting up metal shutters like she and Solas had or just nailing plain old plywood to the buildings. A gust would catch someone’s cover every once in a while, but the wind was nowhere near as bad as it was on the hill. Lyvhenari felt relieved for the townspeople but worried over what that implied for the lighthouse.

Many of the shops had signs on the doors or painted on the plywood reading “Still Open!” or “Open until snowed in!” It was in front of one of these that Solas parked. She recognized it as the hardware store she’d bought some plastic pipe from for the plots.

“Would you rather wait here? I can leave the car on,” Solas offered, hand paused halfway to the key as if he had just thought of asking her. His ears were angled a bit flatter than usual, she noticed. Was he...nervous?

She shrugged. “It’s okay, I’ll come in.” He said nothing and turned the car off, but she saw his ears tilt higher as he stepped out.

As she opened the door, a gust of wind caught it and she stumbled into the curb. Her boot caught on the concrete and she lurched sideways into Solas, who had come around the car. He put a hand on her arm to steady her. “Curse this wind,” she muttered, accepting the other hand he offered and moving to the sidewalk.

“Yes, I suspect we will doing much more of that in the days to come.” It was a joke, but Lyvhenari pressed her lips together at the dark tinge to his words.

Inside the shop was busier than she’d expected. Many of the shelves were already showing bare places where people had bought out the stock--mostly lighting, like flashlights and lanterns. The clerk greeted them as they walked in; she parted with Solas, who went to the counter to ask a few questions. She wanted to have a few flashlights on hand because she wasn’t sure how many were in the house. Granted, Solas probably had a few...but was there really any harm in having more?

For several minutes she stood by the pegboard on which several brands of flashlights hung. People slipped past her a few times to grab their own supplies, seemingly not concerned with things like weight or price. They probably just wanted to hurry up and go home.

Just when she had decided on the right one, she felt the air shift behind her. “I suppose I should have told you that I have quite a number of portable, battery-powered lights. And a generator,” Solas said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, well I just...” She turned around to look at him. Yes, he was smiling. “I didn’t want to take advantage--”

At this, his brows drew up. “Nonsense. You are my tenant. It is my duty to provide you with such things.”

“Hm.” She scuffed the toe of her boot on the polished concrete floor. “What _should_ I buy?”

He shrugged, then toyed with his lip. It was distracting. “You could stock up on nonperishable food if you wish. Things that would last at least a week in case of a power outage. Hopefully that will not occur, but it is best to expect the worst.”

A power outage would be bad news indeed. That would mean no heat, an amenity she had not at all taken for granted since the temperatures dropped recently.

“Well then, food it is.”

She moseyed around while Solas bought batteries, slightly impressed that he (presumably) had everything else already. When they went back out to the car, she noticed a slight mist had picked up. Not rain, not even sprinkling. Just a damp spray of water along with the wind. Solas turned his wipers on low.

“Lyvhenari, are you sure you want to stay?”

The question caught her off guard, especially with the almost forced nonchalance of his tone. He didn’t look at her, just flicked his signal on and kept driving to the grocery store.

“Is it...okay? If I do?” She fidgeted with the edge of her coat, hoping this wasn’t a polite way of trying to make her leave.

Then he did look at her, just a quick glance so he could keep his eyes on the road, but he had a smirk on his face. “Are you asking permission?” She nodded, shrugged. “The only thing I am concerned with is whether you will feel safe. I do not wish you to feel obligated to stay, either for your birds or for the lighthouse, if you do not feel comfortable doing so.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I think...I would still like to. Stay, I mean.”

The grin he flashed her seemed to light up the whole car. “If that is the case, I would be more than happy to accommodate.”

She tried not to overthink that as they pulled up to the grocer’s.

 

The remainder of the day was spent unloading groceries and hauling gas cans to the shed, checking the seals on doors and windows, and helping Solas drag out the rest of the supplies. He wasn’t lying--he had quite the collection of lights. They set a lantern and a flashlight in every room, and Lyvhenari moved the boxes of her things away from the windows upstairs just in case. She was glad the rest of her stuff had finally arrived, because most of her winter clothes were with them. Solas went to his room for the night with the instruction to come find him if the power went out; she agreed and made her way down to the beach to deconstruct her plots.

It was already dark inside from the shutters being up, so she didn’t realize it was past sundown until she stepped out of the door. The sky was tinged with a sickly greenish glow and the clouds churned overhead. They had definitely gotten thicker and more angry-looking over the past few hours.

Even despite her thick coat she was shivering; the nights were cold enough as it was without the wind and wetness. She folded her arms to keep herself warm as she plodded down to the beach, occasionally brushing damp hair from her eyes or mouth.

There were very few birds out and some nests, she noted with dismay, had already been abandoned. She stood near the dunes for several moments debating on scooping up as many eggs as she could to incubate them...but it just wasn’t feasible. Besides, she wasn’t sure Solas would appreciate having a flock of baby seabirds in his house. She sighed heavily and started picking up the wooden stakes and plastic ribbon delineating nesting sites. Mentally she applauded herself for remembering to mark the coordinates of each square’s point: it would make resetting the plots so much easier.

It took less time than she’d expected, but the surf was getting dangerously close to her feet. This was storm surge, then? She wondered how high it would get once the actual storm hit--even now it grew closer to the dunes by the minute. The thought of staying to watch the waves creep ever higher up the shore was enticing until the water ran over the top of her boot and seeped into her sock.

As she made her way back up the hill, she sent texts to Valus and Dorian telling them about the storm. Dorian was, surprisingly, the first to reply.

 _Oh dear, stuck inside for days with Lighthouse Guy?_ His cheeky words were accompanied by a series of equally facetious emojis.

 _Days!?!? It wouldn’t take that long, would it?_ She quickly sent another. _I mean, yeah. Days. All according to plan ;)_

_It would have been nice to know you control the weather. I’ve been dying for a tan._

_Dorian, you’re already tan???_

_Well I need a BETTER one._

Lyvhenari snorted and watched the subsequent pulsating ellipsis until his next message came through.

 _Just be safe. I know your brother tells you that enough, but if I have to road trip with Valus of all people to come rescue you from the grasp of some creep....! Also don’t go outside during the storm, darling. It’s all fun and games until you get frostbite or pneumonia or something_.

_I really don’t think you’d mind taking a trip with Val. And Solas isn’t a creep, he’s nice! But don’t worry, I have no intention of going outside._

_Okay, I wouldn’t mind. DON’T TELL VALUS OR I WILL SEND EVERYONE EVERY HIDEOUS SELFIE YOU’VE EVER TAKEN._ A picture popped up in the conversation of a poorly drawn dragon with lasers coming from its eyes.

She replied with a previously-taken hideous picture of herself smirking with one eyebrow raised.

By the time she made it back to the house, her left foot was freezing and she couldn’t feel her nose or fingers. She’d had intentions of taking a shower since she wasn’t sure if the water would be safe to use after the storm. Now she definitely wanted one after being out in the cold. She toed off her boots by the couch and made her way upstairs to bathe and warm up.

+++

The next day was a waiting game. She’d slept way too long thanks to the darkness in her room from the shutters and the heavy clouds. The white numbers on her phone’s clock read 11:13 and she blinked. _Well, there goes half the day. Again._

It would probably be prudent to charge all her electronics, she realized, just in case. She kept her phone plugged in--Valus still hadn’t replied--and went to search for her laptop.

Which was...in the gift shop. Still.

She groaned and got dressed, throwing her hair up into the laziest of lazy buns. It was impossible to see outside, but from what she could hear it would be a feat to get across the yard.

Tentatively opening the door, she poked her head out and assessed the yard. There were little sticks all over the grass, blown from trees in the parking area. Leaves, water droplets, and grains of sand hit her in the face while she squinted and trudged in the shop’s direction.

Solas had given her a key to the shop for times when she opened or closed, and it certainly came in handy now. She squeezed inside, careful not to open the door too far and make a mess of the postcards. There was her laptop, screen black and battery drained, on the counter.

Quickly she grabbed it and headed back out, careful to lock the door again. She tucked the computer inside her jacket to protect it from the mist that still hung in the air.

The wind stole her breath as she made her way back to the house, but before she went inside she heard someone call out.

“Good morning!” It was Solas, of course, waving and standing by the wooden railing that marked the edge of the yard before it dropped off to a cliffside. He was only wearing a cream sweater and some green pants, without any shoes or coat or even a scarf. _He must be freezing!_ she thought, burrowing further into her jacket.

She waved back with what she hoped came across as a friendly smile and not a grimace from the cold. Solas motioned for her to come over, so she nodded and put her laptop just inside the door.

“Hey!” she said over the wind, trotting up to him. “Fine weather, isn’t it?”

He laughed almost giddily. “Yes, exhilarating is it not?” His voice was also pitched louder than usual; it was the only way to hear each other. “Look there, at the waves,” he said, crouching closer to her ear and pointing towards the ocean.

She gasped and smiled widely. “They’re _huge_!” Waves bigger than she’d ever seen reared their frothy white caps, crashing down into the turbulent blue-grey of the sea. A raindrop fell on her nose then. Not a little speck like the mist, but a fat drop of water. It was followed quickly by another on her cheek, then her lips. She wiped them away with her hand.

“And so it begins,” Solas said with a mischievous grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows. He, too, had a few drops on his face. “The harbinger of winter! Vehement are her clouds and brutal are her winds--let us hope that she shows us mercy during her reign.” His eyes sparkled and his grin grew larger.

“You admire the storm?” she asked, blinking water from her eyelashes.

“Of course! Do you not feel the adrenaline rush from standing at the edge of such a powerful occurrence? From the mystery of the unknown?” He spread his arms out to each side, turning his hands to feel the wind, then placed them back on the wood railing. “My lighthouse may be damaged afterwards, but I can find no room in my heart to resent this beautiful weather.”

It was beautiful, she supposed, if one didn’t concentrate on the cold or the sticky moisture in the air or the fact that the wind could rip shingles off roofs and topple trees. But he spoke so passionately that it was easy to overlook the negative and romanticize the storm. “You really are a writer,” she said with a chuckle. “It does feel like you’re standing at the edge of the world, especially here on this cliff.”

He hummed in agreement, turning back to watch the sea and the racing clouds. They stood for a few moments until he looked at her and donned a look of sympathy. “You are cold,” he noted. She nodded. “I forget you come from warmer climes. We should go inside--it would be quite unfortunate to fall ill.”

The rain started coming down hard just as they shut the door behind them, both shaking the hair from their eyes and laughing. Lyvhenari grabbed her laptop from the floor and brushed off some specks of water from the case. She looked up to see Solas watching her--not in a disconcerting way, just...softly. Fondly, even, with eyes the color of the storm-tossed sea below them. Then he abruptly averted his eyes and wiped the water from his face with a sleeve.

“I should...go charge this,” she said with an unsteady smile, the words clumsy on her tongue as she held up the laptop. She barely waited for his acceding nod before darting into her living area as casually as she could.

Upstairs, she plugged in her laptop and checked her phone for messages. Valus had finally replied with an urgent “CALL ME.”

The phone rang twice before Valus’ frazzled voice answered. “ _Lyv! Are you okay?_ ”

“Valus I’m fine, it’s just a storm. What took you so long?”

He made a noise between a groan and a sigh. “ _I lost my phone in the couch._ ”

She snorted and chuckled. “Never change, Val.”

“ _Shut up! You know how the cushions are. Anyways, about the storm that could possibly TAKE YOUR LIFE--_ ”

“Val for the love of Mythal it’s not. A. Big. Deal. We’ve got so many flashlights laying around you’d think this guy gave spelunking tours.”

Something rustled over the line, then some creaking noises and clacking. Typing, she realized. “ _This article says it’s supposed to hit you today. Like right now. How’s the weather?_ ”

The rain was already coming down harder, spattering against the shutters erratically. “Bright and sunny, actually. I might go for a stroll. Maybe I’ll ask Solas...”

Her brother sighed again. “ _You still have that pepper spray?_ ”

Now it was her turn to groan.

“ _Kidding, kidding. Sort of. Anyways, if I don’t hear from you at least twice a day I’ll assume I have to send out a search party._ ”

“Right, well take Dorian with you. I’m sure he’d love to put together a search party with you!”

“ _Dorian--Creators, he’s so out of my league_ ,” he scoffed. “ _Okay I have a meeting with my editor so I gotta go, but I’m serious about hearing from you. Keep your phone charged!_ ”

She resisted rolling her eyes--he really was worried, and she would feel the same if their positions were reversed. “I will, I promise.”

“ _Etha’ma, asamalin._ ”

“Talk to you later, Val.”

The call ended with a few hollow beeps where her brother’s voice was and she flopped onto the bed. Valus’ concern for her far exceeded what either of their parents had shown, but she hated that he was always fretting about her wellbeing.

  
The day dragged on, made longer by the fact that it felt like nighttime even in mid-afternoon. It was a pity she couldn’t watch the storm; she appreciated the numerous windows in her Redcliffe apartment for that very reason, especially in the summer when there was a rainstorm nearly every day.

She was lying on her stomach on the bed, reading a news article and listening to the storm, when the lamp on her dresser flickered. Her phone’s clock read 6:37--later than she had anticipated the power going out, but still too soon by her standards.

A few minutes later the light wavered again, and this time went out completely. She locked her phone and blinked in the sudden darkness, left alone with only the sounds of wind and rain and various creaking and popping from the old frame of the house. Her hand groped for the flashlight on the nightstand. Its pale yellow light was an improvement. She took her phone and laptop with her downstairs, feeling off-balance and unsure of her steps.

The foyer was hard to get past--she knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of what might be lurking in the dark to either side of her. She was beginning to regret watching so many suspenseful movies. After one step towards the equally spooky hallway, Solas called out.

“Lyvhenari? We should go to the basement now...” His voice was muffled by the thick walls, but it gave her something to focus on.

“Solas,” she sighed as she rounded the doorway and saw him standing by the bay window, electric lantern in hand. It was a relief to see him there, a friendly and somehow excited grin on his face, but the darkness at her back still made her uncomfortable. She hurried toward him, standing a little too close.

He delicately placed a hand on her upper arm, the ghost of a touch that made her ears heat up. “You look worried.”

“No, it’s nothing, I’m--” She snorted at herself. “It’s very dark.”

The blue light from Solas’ lantern exaggerated his sympathetic look enough to make Lyvhenari chastise herself for admitting the source of her fear. “I think I have a remedy for that. You like tea, yes?”

He laughed when she nodded enthusiastically.

They made their way into a room she’d never seen before, the mysterious area that lay behind the door at the other end of the hallway. She wondered if she’d get to see where Solas spent his time...but then they moved past the entrance to what she assumed was the tower, heading down an aged set of stairs that appeared to have escaped the renovations. The wood creaked sullenly; in any other circumstances it would have been eerie, but she was only one step behind Solas. She ignored the urge to grab his shirt for balance, instead placing a hand on the rough stone wall.

At the bottom, he felt along the wall out of habit for a light switch before catching himself. “Some good that would do us,” he muttered.

She huffed a laugh and trailed his heels to the far corner of the basement. It was hard to see in the dark, but the area looked as nice as the rest of the house. The lantern’s light glinted dimly off a large TV, a plush couch, and a collection of bottles on a bar cart. An old wood stove squatted in the corner--she assumed it had been here since the lighthouse’s construction, if its design was anything to go by.

Shadows danced as Solas sat down his light to make a fire. The paper he used for kindling quickly caught, flames popping and dancing, eventually settling down to lick the pyramid of logs in the stove’s belly.

“Better already,” she said, sighing in relief. The area was cast in an orange glow that was more friendly than the starkness of artificial light.

  
A few minutes later they were both sitting on the ground at opposite ends of a king-sized comforter, sipping tea. Well, she was sipping. Solas was sort of touching his lips to it every now and then without actually drinking. The silence was unusually weighted this time, though, and she kept sneaking glances at him.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “So what do you do during storms like this? Hang out here alone, or...?”

His ears perked up at her voice and he scooted around to face her, cheeks red from the fire’s heat. “Yes,” he said with a shrug. “Last time I started to read my rival’s recently published work, but I got so bored that I drank half a bottle of gin and filled a whole sketchbook with horribly disproportionate drawings.” The smirk he flashed her wasn’t one she’d seen before.

“I wouldn’t take you for a gin guy.”

“No? What kind of guy am I, then?” His sly expression remained. Maybe it was the light, but she could have called it coy.

“Hmm...I can see you with a high quality scotch.”

He laughed, clear and musical, and shook his head. “You guessed my drink of choice. Or perhaps that was more than a guess.” One dark eyebrow lifted pointedly.

Now her face was red, and the fire had nothing to do with it. “Well, you know--you’re a high quality guy.”

Silence briefly fell again as his ears swiveled forward. “Am I?”

“You’re always in business casual. And you have nice cufflinks.” _And hair, and eyes, and lips--_

“Nice cufflinks,” he snorted. “Everyone knows nice cufflinks and fine scotch complement each other. I must admit I would rather not wear so many collared shirts, but I have too many meetings.”

She toyed with the fringe on the blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders. Was it impolite to ask him more about what he did? Manners were different up here and she didn’t want to offend, but her curiosity was killing her. “What sort of meetings?”

“Mostly with the Estwatch Historical Society or my literary agent. I also give guest seminars at the university, but those have become less frequent as of late since I have another book in progress.” He laid back on his elbows, stretching his bare feet towards the stove. It was difficult not to look at where his shirt had ridden up to expose the flawless skin of his hip.

“How many have you published?”

“Four.”

She groaned. “I can’t even publish one! You’re either very motivated or your agent is constantly on your back.”

“Or both,” he grinned with a wink.

Her mug muffled her snort as she took a sip, making a face at how cold her tea had become. The temperature was dropping quickly without central heating and she was glad to be by a fire. “So, Mr. Cufflinks,” she drawled, setting the mug to the side, “do you have any fine scotch on that cart of yours?” It would be a long night and alcohol did just the trick for the awkward silences she hoped to avoid. It wasn’t like her to suggest drinking--that was Dorian’s job--but she needed a little liquid courage if she was going to be around Lighthouse Guy all night.

Without a word, Solas stood and padded over to the bottles. “I seem to have finished off the scotch.” Glass clinked for a moment and he hummed in thought. “I have the other half of the gin, tequila, brandy, three flavors of vodka, regular vodka, Rivaini rum, spiced rum, among other things. What do you prefer?”

“Anything but spiced rum. Let’s live a little--I’ll go with tequila.”

He nodded and grabbed a bottle and two glasses, setting them down before heading to a small fridge across the room. Ice clinked lightly and she heard him rummage around for a few seconds more. “Is it the flavor?”

“Hm?”

“Why not spiced rum?” He returned and offered her one of the glasses as he sat cross-legged, nearer than he was before.

She thanked him and toyed with the tumbler’s thick rim. “I get...weird,” she conceded. Flashbacks of sloppy kisses and fumbling fingers popped into her mind, bringing with them shades of anxiety and regret. “And it gives me the worst hangovers.”

Shooting her a quick, understanding glance, he filled her glass halfway. “A terrible consequence of drinking too much. Ah, I don’t have any lime...”

She moved the drink to her lips with a passive wave. “All the same to me,” she said into the light liquid before taking a sip. Her lip reflexively curled over her teeth, an embarrassing habit she’d never managed to overcome. From her peripherals she saw his gaze linger in her direction--or the fire’s, it was hard to tell.

The logs in the stove cracked every so often, sending tiny sparks up. It was mesmerizing to watch as she leisurely downed the drink, smooth tequila doing wonders to combat her nerves and the cold creeping into the basement. A small window close to the ceiling was the only connection to the storm outside, which was maintaining its vicious winds. The rain had stopped, or so it seemed--she had to remind herself that it could be snowing now. _Snow. That will take some getting used to._

Feeling sufficiently relaxed, she covertly glanced from the fire to Solas. He, too, was taking small sips, though he did so with a stoicism that made her think he drank fine liquor more often than he let on. The alcohol had taken the anticipatory edge from their silence, leaving them to their own thoughts.

Solas’ voice startled her, though it was almost a whisper. “Are you warm enough? I have more blankets.”

Her heart squeezed. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” she huffed with a half smile. “I’m quite fine though, thank you.”

He made a soft, satisfied hum and poured himself more tequila before offering the bottle to her. One more glass wouldn’t hurt, she figured as she refilled her glass. It was the third serving she tried to avoid--things usually went downhill from there.

“I was also thinking about the power outage.” His eyes slid towards her lips as she took a drink. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

She coughed abruptly.

“Uh, yeah. Not usually, though. If that makes me seem like less of a loser.” Heat creeped into her ears folded against her hair in chagrin.

“There are many things I would consider you, but a loser is not one of them,” he said lightly, though his eyes held something deeper.

 _Many things?_ It took a monumental effort not to inquire, not to take the bait he was very obviously setting. But she was too familiar with that look, with hazy eyes gleaming from behind thick lashes, with lips tilted into a grin that wasn’t innocuous enough not to be suggestive. It had appeared in the faces of everyone she tried to date, people she eventually cut ties with. And she was _living_ here. Even if she wanted to spur on...something...it probably wouldn’t end well. She didn’t need to be sober to reason that one out. Staring at his butt was probably as far as she should go...or so the ever-weakening voice of reason told her.

Instead of coming back with the flirty line that danced on the tip of her tongue, she gathered her hair over her shoulder and smiled as graciously as she could. “Gratias tibi ago,” she murmured in reflexive Tevene. Solas’ ears flicked.

“That language, it is Tevene?”

Of course he’d recognize it. It was probably a rite of historian passage to have a basic understanding of her first language, not to mention the fact that much of the trade tongue was built on it. “It is.”

“You have said a few things in it. Are you fluent?”

She perked up, taking a quick drink and shifting to face him better. “Yes. My home clan speaks it almost exclusively, except for some conversational Elven. Learning the trade tongue came later.” Talking about home made her feel more at ease, though the twinge of longing was always present. As a teenager she had often claimed that moving to Clan Lavellan was the worst decision her family ever made. Though the resentment had softened over the years, her heart would always remain in the north.

Solas was quiet for a second, looking like he was mulling something over in his mind. Then the moment passed and a lazy grin crept onto his face. “Would you tell me about your clan? I want to learn more about y--about them.”

It was nice to hear such a question asked out of pure curiosity for once. Too often she was the exotic treasure from a fabled clan, brought up in the dangerous territory of Tevinter. People frequently used her to make themselves look cooler, showing her off to their friends as “that Tevinter Dalish girl I told you about”. But she didn’t feel the same infatuation from Solas, merely a scholarly interest.

She told him of the High Reaches, of her Keeper and her grandfather and the antics she and Valus got up to, subtly leaving her mother out of the stories. Unsurprisingly, Solas was a good listener, only asking pertinent questions and drawing his brows together in concentration as she rambled on.

Somehow she got into a story from her childhood about how her brother thought it would be funny to dress her up as himself so he could take off lessons for a day. “He drew freckles on me with a permanent marker,” she giggled, still holding her empty glass. “Everyone knew, of course, but Mythal bless them for going with it.”

Solas’ laugh was more hearty than she had heard so far, softened at the end with a purr-like snort. “And what was your brother doing all the while?”

“Catching toads, I think...”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Valus sounds like a good person.”

“He is,” she said, nodding. “He’s my other half. I guess twins are supposed to say that, though.” Sometime during one of their bouts of laughter, she and Solas had shifted closer. The warmth from his thigh radiated onto her hand, and their shoulders almost touched. She bit her lip in thought, surprised to find it numbed by the alcohol. _Since when did I become such a lightweight?_ Then she remembered she’d skipped dinner. Briefly she wondered if Solas was feeling similar effects, when a loud crack outside made her jump towards him.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders to catch her; she was sure he could feel her heart pounding. It took a few seconds to realize her blunder, but not before he started to pull away. Time felt like it was slowed down and she momentarily forgot that she was supposed to be letting his wrist go. It didn’t seem terribly important, anyways.

Solas huffed a small laugh and gave up on propriety, pulling her closer. To her relief, he didn’t remark on how red her cheeks and ears were. “I believe a limb has fallen. Nothing to worry about.” Tequila lingered pleasantly on his breath and his hand stroked soothing circles over her shoulderblade.

She dared to brush the fingers of his free hand with hers, ignoring the logical part of herself that bade her not to. Creators, she wanted to.

By the way his arm tightened around her, she realized he might have been struggling with the same thing. He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a moment, eliciting a small gasp she hadn't meant to make. His grin was faint, twitching at the corners of his mouth as if he was trying to keep a straight face. “It is late,” he murmured, bringing their entwined fingers down to his knee. “I would recommend sleeping by the fire. I should find another blanket for myself.”

“You don’t have to, you know. Don’t...feel like you have to.” She cringed at her ineloquence.

It didn’t seem to phase Solas, who sat as still as a statue except for his thumb gently and slowly running down her index finger. The movement tickled in a way that made her almost giddy. “Perhaps it would be warmer that way...” He creased his brows in thought. “I can distance myself at any point, should you ask it of me.”

She twisted to look at his eyes and tried not to notice the apprehension in them. Was he afraid of that? Afraid she would reject him? “I won’t,” she whispered.

As soon as she said it, his eyes softened and the hesitant lines of his body fell into something more natural. “Then I will stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waggles eyebrows aggressively* DIALOGUE!??!?! PHYSICAL CONTACT!?!?! THE NSFW COMETH, YE BE WARNED
> 
> Btw I just made the storm a cross between a nor’easter and a hurricane...I REALLY wanted to make a dirty joke about nailing or screwing when they were putting up the shutters but I couldn’t keep it in character haha. 
> 
> **Elven:**  
>  _Etha’ma, asamalin_ \--Stay safe, sister
> 
>  **Tevene:**  
>  _Gratias tibi ago_ \--Thank you (lit. I give you thanks...or something)


	6. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING FOR LIGHT BLOOD MENTION FROM A MINOR INJURY** (just a lil cut from a fall, but if that bothers you please PM me and I can put out an edited version!)
> 
> Anyways heyyyy idk anything about cold weather *fingers guns* but I do know about hurricane aftermath lmao >____> (side eye at Irma)
> 
> Also I hope I captured the emotions in this chapter well enough...I feel like they’re a bit lacking but I’ve been working on it too long so here it is :D

Cold air snaked around Lyvhenari’s foot, partially rousing her from a deep sleep. She burrowed further into the blanket and pulled her foot in to wriggle it under the warm legs beside her.

Her eyes flew open.

Solas was so close their noses were almost touching. She stifled the panic that burst through her, but the questions running through her mind made her stomach roil. _Please don’t tell me we had sex, oh Creators I am in so much deep shit..._

Last night she had been uncharacteristically forward, she remembered that much--she’d been too sober to have forgotten and too buzzed to keep things slipping from her mouth. Flashbacks ran through her head of the tequila, the fire, her creepy come-ons she would never let herself live down. What kind of tenant tries to flirt with their landlord? And sort-of boss? She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and reassessed things. One, she’d been buzzed and that was easily excusable, so maybe Solas wouldn’t think she was a total wackjob. Two, he had been a little flirtatious himself. And three...he was still sleeping next to her. Adorably, in fact, and looking for all the world like nothing could wake him up.

Except the moment she thought so, his brows drew up and he groaned, pulling his warm legs away and hunching under the blanket they shared. She huffed a quiet laugh, sneaking glances at him in case he woke up to see her staring. It was still a shock that he had actually stayed, though she feared now that she hadn’t really left him with a way to politely decline her request. 

What was the protocol now? Get up and leave, pretend it never happened? Or maybe she should just pretend to go back to sleep and see what he would do. That would have worked, but she had to pee and with her luck he’d keep sleeping for hours. She bit her lip trying to figure out a course of action.

Solas shifted next to her, stretching his legs until his ankles popped. His sleeping habits were totally foreign to her--was he waking up? Trying to calm her heartbeat, she shut her eyes just enough to look asleep.

He lazily threw his arm over her waist and, eyes still closed, pulled her into his chest. With his chin on her head he mumbled, “It’s cold.”

A giggle threatened to escape, but she just grinned and nodded against his collarbones. It was still unclear if he was awake--people talked in their sleep sometimes. And snuggled.

His heartbeat quickened and he stilled, arm stiffening around her. _Now_ he was awake, she realized, and clearly he hadn’t expected her to be there.

“Good morning. We should, uh...get dressed,” she said as she scooted away, trying to act unfazed.

It was a little disappointing when he nodded stiffly. “Perhaps we should.”

He said nothing further of the events last night, but they decided to meet in the hallway once they’d gotten ready for the day. He had warned that the winds were still high and snow was likely covering almost everything, but Lyvhenari was mostly worried about the damage to the beach. She wanted to believe that the storm surge, wind, and sudden drop in temperature didn’t kill everything and ruin her project. 

The shutters didn’t have to be off the windows for her to know enough to dress for the dead of winter. At her brother’s behest prior to moving, she’d bought some waterproof boots lined with fake fur so at least her toes wouldn’t freeze. The rest of her might, though. She went through her morning routine by the light of the lantern, on autopilot while her brain looped the night’s events and annoyingly stuttered over the feeling of Solas’ hands on her.

What was the situation now? Every impulse had her wanting to text someone--maybe Vivienne, for objectivity’s sake--and ask for advice, but she needed to save as much of her phone’s battery as she could. Boy troubles didn’t count as an emergency in her book. Texting Valus that she was still alive, however, was acceptable. The last thing she needed was him showing up on the doorstep just to nag at her. 

She messaged her brother as she hopped down the stairs, feeling better about her surroundings this time because of the weak light sneaking through the gaps in the metal storm shutters. Solas was already leaning against the wall by the front door actually wearing warm clothes for once.

At her approach, he shifted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “The snow is thick,” he warned, barely meeting her eyes. She could have imagined a blush creeping across his cheeks. “I would suggest at least two layers of clothing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got three.” It had been an undertaking, but a loose sweater hid the bulkiness of the two shirts beneath. She didn’t think she would ever get used to dressing for temperatures below freezing. 

Solas smiled faintly in approval, a half-hearted twitch of his mouth. “Then shall we investigate the damage?” He pulled open the door and made a motion for her to go first.

She’d never seen so much snow outside of pictures. Sometimes in Redcliffe little flurries would form, but they never stuck to the ground enough to make a difference. This, though... There were many negative side effects to such a storm, but this was not one of them. She barked out an astonished laugh. 

It would have been a perfectly serene vista were it not for the wind whipping at her hair and a giant limb laying on the ground from one of the trees. Snow covered the yard and most of the deck; she had to kick it out of the way just to make it to the stairs. Solas followed her silently, scrutinizing the state of the buildings with leather-gloved hands clasped behind his back.

“How does it look?” she called, stomping over to where he stood peering up at the tower.

He said nothing for a moment before heaving a sigh. “A lot of shingles are missing.”

If they had been blown off, they must have been under they snow. That would be fun to clean up once it melted. “Normal, right?”

“Still a hassle to replace. The tower may need repairs as well...” His face displayed sharp lines of worry as he trailed off. Lighthouse repairs must be expensive, she realized, and the process of installing the parts of performing maintenance was probably labor-intensive. She supposed she would be worried, too.

Since his attention was elsewhere, Lyvhenari took the chance to trudge over to the railing overlooking the beach. Black basalt dropped steeply below her and she gripped the wood to steady sudden vertigo.

From what she could see, the beige sand had been turned a dingy white from the snow. The waves were the same blue-grey as yesterday and--her stomach sank--the white foam washed up all the way to where the nests had been. Solas drew up beside her, quiet as a whisper. From the corner of her eye she saw him move his hand as if to touch her wrist before seeming to think better of it, leather creaking as he closed his fingers into a fist.

“Would you like me to come with you?” he asked, bending closer to her ear to be heard over the wind. 

All she could manage was a tiny nod.

The path to the beach was less snowy, the remaining dunes having blocked most of the wind. Some of the dunes had been reduced to little lumps without any vegetation at all. Sand and ice crunched beneath her boots as they traveled the path she was now well familiar with.

At sea level, it was clear that the storm surge had receded since last night. It was still higher than she’d yet seen, but it was low enough now to leave traces of nest material and plant matter scattered across the sand. She steeled herself and looked harder. Eggs from at least three different species lay within bundles of sea grass, some crushed entirely. She immediately pulled out the notebook she kept in her coat pocket and began making counts. At the very least, she could record the number of observed losses.

Her guts felt like they were in her throat the whole time. Solas watched intently--or at least he was every time she checked to make sure he was still there. The counts didn’t take long, and after about ten minutes she snapped the notebook closed and walked back to where he stood by the nesting site.

“These populations were already low,” she started, but broke off when her lip trembled. No, this was ridiculous. She wouldn’t let herself cry over this: she was a _scientist_ , trained in objectivity. She should be trying to find a way to revise her statistical tests to work around the discrepancies, not crying like some bleeding heart. But if she couldn’t finish her work she couldn’t stay here and just when she was starting to feel happy something had to come along and--

A dark jacket blocked the depressing view and Solas held both her shoulders. It startled her enough that she snapped her eyes up to meet his. They were kind, soft, and so she believed his words. “Ir abelas. If I can be of any help...”

“Ma serranas, Solas.” Had he ever spoken Elvhen to her? It was hard to remember. She wiped her damp eyes with her coat sleeve. “They’ll come back. It’s still early in the season, so...I have to hope they’ll recover. The adults are hiding out somewhere on the island, I’m sure. These things happen.” The reassurances sounded empty to her own ears. 

He pulled away to a more proper distance, taking a vague sense of security with him. “Things do happen, unfortunately.”

She nodded absently before a thought occurred to her. “Do you think the town is okay?”

“I certainly hope so. I was planning to walk down there in a little while.”

“Walking?” There was more alarm in her voice than she intended. “Uh, I mean it’s really icy isn’t it?”

His laugh ended in another soft snort. “I spent good money on these boots for just an occasion.”

“A worthy investment,” she muttered, glancing covertly at her own glorified rain boots.

“Indeed.” The conversation paused, interrupted only by a few quick gusts of wind. “Would you care to join me?” 

It took just a moment too long to form a response; Solas shifted his weight. “Um...I think I should probably finish up here actually. I could meet you down there though, or help you with repairs later?” There wasn’t an easy way to suggest that she wanted time to herself. Her work load had just increased tenfold, and plus she wanted to keep her mind off whatever the hell that morning had been.

“Very well,” he shrugged. “I should leave you to your work, then.”

She watched him effortlessly lope up the sandy path, chewing on her lip and considering where to start with the mess on the beach.

 

+++

 

Lyvhenari hadn’t even noticed how low the sun was until she had finished resetting the plots. While that task wasn’t exactly on her to-do list for today, it needed to be done--and she needed to work. Work was her safety zone, and when she was overwhelmed with other aspects of her life she threw herself into it. Workaholic, Dorian had called her without hiding his concern. But if success was a byproduct of working too hard, where was the harm?

She stood up and arched her back, spine cracking from being bent over most of the day. Being outside had done her good, even if the sun was still muted by low clouds. Solas was probably back by now, but instead of anxiety she just felt a dim acceptance that last night was a fluke. He was a private man, a busy man, and way too cultured and poised for someone like her anyway. So while she stabbed wooden stakes back into the sand and tied plastic ribbon around them, she stabbed each fluttery thought of her employer-slash-landlord until the butterflies in her stomach died. 

The climb uphill to the lighthouse was more slippery now than it had been earlier. She lost her footing as soon as she stepped on the small section of asphalt before the gravel road, brushing off a bruised knee and elbow. Snow was pretty, but ice? Homesickness stabbed through her before she could remind herself that being here was for the greater good. Even so, her knee throbbed and she could feel her mood worsening. Probably from hunger. She trudged up the gravel with a limp and then tripped again almost immediately, face first, unable to pull her hands from her pockets to catch herself. Her chin and shoulder caught the brunt of the fall. “Shit,” she growled, pushing herself back up and ignoring the sharp pain on her jaw. Embarrassing.

As she approached the lighthouse she heard a grunt of effort followed by a loud metal clang.

“Oi, watch it!” a familiar voice squawked.

Lyvhenari rounded the corner of the house to see Solas perched on the top rung of a ladder, attempting to hand Sera the metal storm shutters. The blonde’s face brightened at her approach and Sera bobbed over, seeming glad for a reprieve. Or a replacement.

“I dunno what’s so good about birds but it can’t be funner than this.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, shooting a glare at Solas as he descended the ladder.

“Sorry, I really had to--”

“WHOA Lyv you take a spill or somethin’? You got like...” Sera made a flappy hand motion at her own face.

Lyvhenari lips pulled into a confused frown and felt a sharp tugging where she’d hit her chin on the rocks. “What?”

Solas crunched over through the snow, brows drawn together in an unreadable expression. When his gaze flicked to her face, though, his eyes widened. “You’re bleeding." 

She thought she’d felt something warm, but it hadn’t bothered her to check. By the looks on their faces, she probably should have. She pulled her glove off and felt the scrape. Huh. I sure am.” Cold had dried the blood that now crusted over her neck and--she looked down--the front of her coat. 

“Sera,” Solas said, “do not climb that ladder. Please finish removing the first story shutters.” He turned to Lyvhenari. “Come, your lips are blue. This is not the Hinterlands where you can stay out for long periods of time.” It was an admonishment, but a gentle one like her brother always gave her. His hands steered her inside.

It was almost too hot in the hallway, though the power was out. She’d become accustomed to the wind and cold while she was working. It was a relief to strip down to her long-sleeve tunic and leggings, finally free to move without the bulk of the extra layers. “I’m fine, Solas. It’s just a little blood.”

He gave her a _look_ and gestured to the downstairs bathroom. There was a little lantern on the counter; she jumped when she turned it on. Creators, she looked like a zombie.

“I would hate to know your definition of a lot of blood,” he said dryly, pulling a navy blue washcloth from a basket and running it under the water. He nodded to the closed toilet. “Sit, please.”

Was he...upset? There was something in his eyes that belied his soft tone, the set of his jaw too hard, his movements too controlled. Guilt coursed through her. This was her fault--she shouldn’t have expected to walk the same way on icy ground. She clenched her hands and started biting her cheek, a bad habit that currently made her chin sting badly. Solas’ hands were cool against her flushed neck, though the water felt warm. Heat sprawled across her face, borne from humiliation and from the soothing feel of Solas sweeping the cloth over her skin to clean up the blood she hadn’t noticed. 

His thumb pressed against the bottom of her jaw, suggesting she lift her head. She did, but not before she stole another glance at his eyes. Upset wasn’t the right word.

“You will not need stitches.” His voice, though just above a whisper, seemed loud in the close space.

She leveled her head and willed her face into impassivity, though her body shivered continuously now that she’d stopped moving around. Solas’ nose was so close to hers they were almost touching, and from his expression he hadn’t anticipated the nearness.

Several heartbeats stretched into what could have been a thousand. Finally she licked her lips to speak. His eyes flicked down for the briefest second, ears swiveled forward.

“Well...that’s good.”

He sighed and backed up. “You should be more careful.”

“Are you upset?” she blurted.

“Upset?” It settled her the tiniest bit that he looked disturbed at her question. “Not at all. I...am concerned with the direction a fall could have taken. Emergency services are very unlikely to come with the roads in such a condition.”

She nodded solemnly. Sometimes she forgot this was an island in the middle of the Amarinthine Ocean. And she hadn’t yet seen what it looked like in town.

Solas rummaged through a cabinet and pulled out bandages. She craned her neck in interest. Bandaids on her face would look so stupid. “Butterfly bandages,” he explained, tearing open the thin paper wrapping. His touch was gentle as he put them on to close up the cut as much as possible.

“Thank you,” she said when he was done. For a moment she wondered what other first aid items he had on hand, but before she could ask about it the room was suddenly bright.

Sera’s freckled face was smushed against the now uncovered window embedded above the tub. “Are you gonna smooch in the bathroom all day or help me put up these shutters?” Her voice was muffled by the glass, but her words were clear enough. Lyvhenari’s face turned crimson.

“I sometimes wonder if I am, in fact, her boss.” Solas balled the bandage wrappers up and tossed them in the trash, then offered her a hand up. “I think it best for you not to expend yourself--get warm and let Sera and I handle the immediate repairs.”

Well she couldn’t say no to that. Some tea sounded amazing right now, but she’d have to start a fire. Then again, a fire also sounded great. The shiver still hadn’t gone away. “If you’re sure...” 

He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear as casually as he would have his own. She was acutely aware that they were still holding hands. “I am quite sure. Though this wind-tousled look suits you.” His mouth spread into a smirk and her heart stuttered when he squeezed her fingers in his before letting go.

The most she could manage was a lopsided smile as he went back outside. That was a huge development from this morning, when he seemed so distant. It probably had nothing to do with them sleeping next to each other--maybe he just wasn’t a morning person. Or at least that’s what she tried to convince herself as she bounced down the basement stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven  
> Ir abelas: I am sorry
> 
> Ma serranas: Thank you
> 
>  
> 
> So yeah that's that! Honestly I'm a little drained creatively rn and I ended in a weird spot so...we'll see how the next chapter is XD Thanks for the support and encouragement, and for still reading this thing even though I take the longest to write things in the history of fanfiction ;o; (okay not true but I feel like that lol) 
> 
> Also if any of my readers are fellow Irma survivors, I hope everyone did okay in the storm! <3


	7. One Hell of a Social Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti* I'M BACK holy gods above last semester completely drained me creatively
> 
> fun fact, I wrote 3,000+ words in 12 hours please let me die :)

“Should have applied for an intern,” Lyvhenari grumbled to herself as she stomped through snowy sand. “Stupid hurricane, stupid birds, stupid plastic--” Another gust of wind whipped across the water, blowing hot pink construction tape down the beach like a tumbleweed. She threw her arms in the air in frustration, rustling the tape already wrapped around them.

It had been three days since the storm, and two days since Solas held her hand. Even now her cheeks warmed at the thought--and she hated herself for it. It had been disappointing and confusing when Solas moved his sleeping arrangements to the basement’s couch, but it didn’t do anything to lessen the butterflies that jumped into her throat whenever she thought of him. So naturally, instead of addressing the issue, she was occupying herself with either obsessively checking the shorebird nesting plots or helping people in town.

Speaking of... As she power-walked to retrieve the stray tape, she checked her watch. “Shit!” she hissed. It was almost noon, the time she’d offered to meet Sera to help clean up the town some. If she was late she’d never hear the end of it. Her brisk walk turned into a jog, ending with a malicious stomp on the offending pink ribbon to stop it from blowing away again.

As she huffed her way over the crest of the dune trail, she saw Sera’s head bobbing up and down. After a few more steps the girl’s body came into view, and Lyvhenari chuckled at the sight of her hop-jogging in place.

“’Bout friggin’ time you showed up!” Sera grumbled, ceasing her movement except for bouncing a little. “I had to keep myself warm by _exercise_. And now I’m sweaty.” She made a disgusted face.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think I would be that involved.” Lyvhenari shrugged helplessly, trying to look sheepish but failing when she grinned. “You looked hilarious.”

Sera snorted, struggling to glare, but a smile tugged at her mouth. “Yeah whatever, let’s go before the rest of me freezes.” Head tucked into her scarf like a turtle, she stomped down the gravel road that led into town. Lyvhenari laughed and followed after her.

Once she had overcome her fear of the ice, walking to town wasn’t so bad--even with the limp from her bruised knee. But she hadn’t been prepared for the storm’s damage, even though Solas had assured her it was minimal compared to what it could have been. Limbs were down everywhere, shingles had been torn from roofs, power lines snaked across streets lined with gritty snow, and several flimsy buildings had extensive damage.

The roads were still too dangerous for driving out to check on neighboring areas, but everyone in this town was at least holding their own and supporting each other. Barrel fires were set out on street corners and outside shop fronts for people to warm themselves as they helped clean up. Lyvhenari was pleasantly surprised at the optimism and friendliness in the face of destruction. Only a few people had questioned her about the cut on her chin, which was embarrassing to explain. Of course Sera still teased her for it.

There was plenty of cleanup to do even after days of work, but major repairs would have to wait until the roads were salted so utility trucks could get through. Lyvhenari and Sera joined a group that were dragging limbs to a large pile to be dried indoors and used for firewood. Across the road, Bull and another well-built man were moving a fallen wooden arbor from the front door of someone’s townhouse. She hadn’t seen the Qunari other than the time she stopped by his coffee shop, and though she remembered him she was uncertain it was mutual. With a mental shrug, she bent down to pick up another branch.

“Hey kid!” a booming voice called out, making her ears swivel toward the sudden sound hard enough to ache. She peered over her shoulder to see who had spoken. Bull stood with one leg on the arbor and waved vigorously at her. So he did remember! "Kid" was interesting: after all, she was probably around his age. She ignored how her winter-plagued lips cracked when she smiled and waved back. He motioned her over.

“How’s it going?” she asked brightly as she approached. The man standing next to Bull had a very warm-looking beard; he stood a step back with his hands in his pockets.

The barista made a noncommittal noise. “Well, you know--they always want the big dudes to do all the work.” He winked and chucked his chin at the bearded man. “This is Blackwall.”

Blackwall nodded and extended his hand. “Pleasure.”

She shook his hand, putting on her warmest smile. “Lyvhenari,” she said, “or Lyv. Nice to meet you. Did you both fare okay?”

Bull groaned. “Besides the giant hole in my roof, it’s fine. Just gotta throw some tarps over that bad boy and wait for them to get some salt on these roads.”

“Hopefully that’ll be soon,” Blackwall agreed. His voice had a pleasant accent. “My best fruit tree split right down the middle, but I’ve got some seeds saved. I’ll just have to make up for it somehow.”

“He grows like half the produce on the island,” Bull explained, anticipating Lyvhenari’s confusion.

She nodded and mouthed _ohhh_. It would be smart to have local gardeners to reduce shipping costs of fresh produce. “Yes, this was...an experience,” she said. “I thought Ferelden winters were cold. Apparently it doesn’t matter that Estwatch is up north.” Even if she had little in common with the locals, they had all weathered the storm and were all freezing their asses off together.

“It really sucks about all this right when you moved here, huh?” His chuckle was a wry staccato. “Hopefully that lighthouse is warmer than it looks.”

Blackwall’s thick eyebrows rose. “You’re the new lighthouse tenant?” His mouth bowed into an appreciative curve. “How’d you land that gig?”

It took a few minutes of explaining the serendipitous emails and her research position with the Circle, after which the man let out a low whistle. “It’s actually freezing, by the way,” she said with a smirk directed at Bull. “But the company is okay.”

She could have sworn Bull tried to wink at her, though it was hard to tell. They chatted for a few minutes longer until Sera called her over to help with a particularly thick branch. The two men’s goodbyes left her with a warm feeling, and she found herself missing socialization. Good to know she hadn’t become a complete hermit the past few years.

 

 

When the pile of branches was over Lyvhenari’s head and she had shed two layers after working up a sweat, the cleanup crew collectively decided to call it a day. She was grateful; her field work was rare these days, and she wasn’t as physically conditioned for manual labor anymore--though her fingers probably had six packs from all the typing she did. It was the plight of any ecologist: to have a passion for working closely with nature, and ending up staring at a screen most days.

Though the storm had ruined a lot of things, she tried to think of the past few days as a sort of vacation. It was nice to take a break from writing and statistics, even if it was only for a few days. There were several books to read, things to draw, and household tasks to keep her from being too bored. As she walked home she looked forward to settling down tonight on the basement couch, wood stove burning comfortably in the background, and doing absolutely nothing productive.

So when she saw Solas unloading cans of paint from the shed, her lips pressed into a line.

It wasn’t in her nature to refuse people help--her brother often called her out on it, but she was a product of her upbringing. If Solas needed help painting the lighthouse, she’d have to say yes or she’d feel guilty forever. Not that she would have minded helping him. It was just that she’d been working _all day_.

His smile was disarmingly bright as he turned towards her crunching footsteps, dark hair loose and fluttering in the wind. There was always wind here, she noted, and it made him look like he was on the cover of a romance novel. She liked it.

“Lyvhenari,” he called as a greeting, voice unusually chipper. He popped back inside the shed for a moment; by the time Lyvhenari got there he came back out to balance a container full of brushes on top of the cans. The globs of paint on top of their metal lids were all sorts of colors, and next to the larger cans was a plastic tub of smaller jars full of what looked like mixed pigments.

“Hello, Solas,” she said, still pondering the paint. Nowhere was this colorful, not even in town, and certainly not on the lighthouse. What on earth could he have this much paint for? It looked well-used, with plenty of accidental smudges on the cans, containers, and brush handles.

He set down a few palettes and trays, then brushed off his hands on his dark jeans. “Did you go into town?”

“I did. We’re making progress, but the roads are still icy.” She didn’t ask why he was never there; it wasn’t her business. Plus, he had a lot to deal with on his own property. Shingles were still missing, parts of the fence were broken, and yesterday he told her he’d discovered a crack in one of the tower windows that would be a costly repair.

“It may be another few days before the salt trucks are able to reach us. But until then, I’m sure the townspeople are very glad to have your help.” His sea-blue eyes were unreadable, but the ghost of a smile showed through his calm expression.

She nodded. “I think they need all the help they can get. I’m glad I can do something; they’re all such nice people.”

He did smile this time, eyes softening almost wistfully. “Yes, they are.”

Wind and crashing waves filled the lull in conversation. It wasn’t an awkward silence--with Solas it never was--but she found herself shuffling her feet in the snow all the same.

“So...are you doing repairs?” she asked finally. She shouldn’t pry, and she really didn’t have any need to know what he did in his spare time, but her insufferable curiosity got the better of her.

His teeth were so straight and pretty, she noticed when he grinned. “Actually,” he said, glancing down at the paint, “this is for a personal project of mine.”

Personal project? He painted? Her mind skipped back to when she visited Bull’s coffee shop. The crumpled, stained drawings on the wall had been at the back of her mind for a while now, but she realized she’d never asked Solas about his hobby.

She was about to bring it up when he reached down to grab the brushes, trays, and container full of smaller jars. “Would you like to see?” he asked. Even if she wasn’t a complete pushover with most things, there was no way she could ever refuse when his whole face looked so eager. He was...letting her in, she realized.

“I’d love to. Anything with this many colors has to be good.” She flashed him a smile, ears forward and friendly, an expression he returned with a surprising light blush before motioning with his head for her to follow him.

Shoving down the excitement at seeing Solas’ project, she scooped up the larger paint cans he’d left behind and trotted after him.

They walked through the hallway to the door at the end, now familiar to her from living in the basement for several days. He shifted to hold all the items with one arm, deftly opening the door and catching them before they slipped from his grasp. It seemed like something he did often. The stone anteroom had its usual sweet scent of aged wood, with overtones of dust. She half expected them to go through the basement door, but Solas turned toward the other entryway--the mysterious door she’d never been through.

The door creaked open and a zig-zagging stone stairway that looked like it had jumped straight from a creepy castle or a serial killer’s basement loomed into the darkness above them. Well, darkness wasn’t actually the right word. Faint light glowed down most of the steps, and Lyvhenari suspected there was a window at the top. Still...she couldn’t stop the completely irrational intrusive thoughts she had about Solas being a murderer. What if after all this time he was just gaining her trust to lure her to his killing room? It could totally happen. Weirder things had happened in Thedas.

He must have sensed her trepidation, because he paused with one foot on the first step and turned to her. “My office is up here,” he explained, and she found herself quietly sighing with relief. “It connects the tower to the basement. There used to be a door that opened onto the top story of the house, but I had it closed off when I started accepting tenants. Historically, the lighthouse keepers brought their families to live here, so having easy access to the house made their lives much easier.”

She was about to ask where the closed-off door was, but he continued up the steps and disappeared past the first landing. Hefting the paint cans up, she followed him.

Her thighs were burning by the time she reached the top; the necessity of a compact staircase made it have essentially twice the amount of steps as usual. Solas poked his head around a stone archway in the wall, startling a gasp out of her.

“In here,” he said before disappearing again. Noise bounced off the walls as he moved things around, and while he rummaged through the plastic containers she rounded the corner to see the coziest, most interesting space she’d ever been in.

The curved outer wall was _covered_ in paintings. She set down the paint cans and turned slowly to take it all in: stylized figures that looked as if they belonged in a history book towered over her, and everywhere where hulking black wolves. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many compliments she wanted to give him, but they all fell short. So she stood there with her lips parted in awe, greedily taking in the vast work.

The space was unexpectedly large, with tall, raftered ceilings and plenty of floor space for plush furniture that looked well-loved. A work table sat near the fireplace, the entire area littered with paper and books and writing utensils. Artifacts that could have been hundreds or thousands of years old hunkered down in wood and glass cases, no doubt still in great condition.

Seeing the room gave her a completely new insight to her secretive landlord--he clearly took his work more seriously than he’d implied. She could have imagined herself transported to ages ago, when magic still existed and dragons prowled the skies, when the fate of the world was decided by monarchs in glittering jewels and heroes who carried the future on their shoulders. The only anachronistic feature that halted her fantasy was a sleek laptop that lay open on the worktable, its screensaver boasting _5:13 PM_  flip-clock style.

The laptop gave her enough pause to remember that the room’s owner was still behind her, probably thinking she was a weirdo for gawking at his stuff for so long. She turned, idly gathering her hair and bringing it over her shoulder. Solas was leaning against the wall, head tilted, arms crossed as if considering something. His eyes were darker than usual; his pupils were dilated and his gaze was fixed on her, ears fully forward and intent. She held his gaze, heart pounding so loud it seemed to echo. He looked almost predatory, like the wolves in his mural, but she felt no need to make a dash for the door. Instead, she took a step forward.

In an instant, his look shifted into a devious grin. “I assume you do not consider me an artistic failure, then?” His tone was light, but his eyes still held that sharp interest. She tried to keep her focus away from his mouth as it faded to a smirk.

“There are many things I would consider you,” she said, repeating his words in the basement the night of the storm. Her voice was lower and more serious than she had at all intended. “But a failure of any sort is not one of them.”

His nostrils flared as he held her gaze. Was he...smelling her? “I am pleased you think so.” This time he took a step, then another, until there was only an arm’s length between them. Lyvhenari could barely think over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. She took a steadying breath. This exchange had taken a surprising turn, and she wasn’t sure she would have the willpower to leave the room if it came down to it.

“Solas, I--”

That head tilt again--that odd, feral head tilt that reminded her of a hawk watching a mouse.

“I should leave you to your project,” she said weakly, forcing a smile and hoping it touched her eyes enough to be believable. She wanted to stay more than anything. “I’m so glad you showed it to me. It’s truly beautiful.” There was no forcing that. She could have spent hours looking at the mural. But she was in his room, in his space, catching a glimpse into his life that she had no right to see, and the whole exchange had felt incredibly intimate--even if they still had two feet of space between them.

Another step. One foot of space between them.

“Lyvhenari.” His voice was soft; she couldn’t meet his eyes, and opted to stare at his chest. At the strange necklace he wore, with a small, fingernail-sized black charm in the shape of a jawbone. She’d never seen it before, but figured he kept it tucked beneath his clothes or something when he wore it.

She toyed with her hair that lay over her shoulder, glancing at him enough to acknowledge that he’d spoken. This was not going in a favorable direction. “We should probably...” Probably what? Probably not make out alone in his room and blur every line that had existed between them for the past few months?

“ _Lyvhenari_.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his.

She couldn’t stop herself from reaching for his hand, never breaking his gaze. His fingers touched hers as if he was holding a butterfly.

“Ir'ina'lan'ehn,” he said so quietly that she wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly.

When the word processed, her heart jumped straight to her throat. Her blush was not gentle; heat prickled across her face, ears, and back, and the room felt too warm even with the slight draft from the alcoved window. Solas’ lips were curved halfway into that insufferable smirk, the one she replayed over and over again in her head when she let herself indulge. “Sweet talker,” she murmured back, looking at him through her eyelashes. At least now she knew where the lines were--and they were already blurry. Funny how knowing where you stood with someone changed how you acted.

Without giving herself time to reconsider, she closed the gap between them and pressed her mouth to his.

He didn’t stiffen or back away as she was preparing herself for. No, he softened toward her and his body followed hers as she reluctantly pulled away. What was she doing? Was she absolutely insane? She fully expected him to ask her to leave, but then that lopsided grin was back. His eyes were as glittering and dark as they’d been moments ago.

In an effort to diffuse the situation enough to apologize for her forwardness, she started to turn away. Her gasp was audible when he grabbed her elbow, spun her towards him, and kissed her deeply.

It was tactile and raw, tongues sliding over teeth and his soft lips moving expertly over hers. His arm wrapped around her back, his other hand tangled in her hair just enough to keep her close. Not that she needed help; she was pressed against him so fully that she could feel the strain in his muscles, hear the slamming of his heart that synced with his panting breaths.

He moved forward until her shoulders hit the wall, breaking from her only to trail kisses down her jaw and over her ear. She whimpered, heat slicing through her. A puff of air tickled her face as he gave a quiet laugh that sounded more at ease than she’d ever heard from him. His lips pressed lightly against her cheekbones before he touched their foreheads together. She found herself grinning hugely, though whether it was from the exhilaration of a kiss or giddiness from the growing realization that _she had just kissed Lighthouse Guy_ , she couldn’t tell. Maybe both.

But just like that, her smile died. She had just kissed him. And he had kissed _back_. Thoroughly. He’d flirted with her a few times, but she never expected anything to come out of it. This had happened so suddenly--what would be the repercussions of this? What if he didn’t want to pursue anything with her after all? She’d have to see him every day with this hanging between them. Romance and extended sexual relations weren’t her thing. If she did find a partner, she always made sure they had no connections to her, and especially not to her work. Cutting ties was bad enough, but it was a thousand times worse when you had to be around them afterwards.

Solas noticed her change in demeanor and eased to the side to give her room to move off the wall if she wanted. She stayed put, bracing her arms behind her. His dark eyebrows drew together. “I apologize if I made you at all uncom--”

She silenced his words by holding her fingertips lightly to his mouth. “I think I’ve wanted to do that since the train station,” she admitted with a chuckle, running her thumb over the smooth skin of his jaw. Male elves didn’t grow facial hair like other races, which she appreciated--it was so scratchy and distracting. Her sigh as she retracted her hand sounded weary even to her. “I should be the one apologizing. That was extremely forward of me.”

“Forward?” A quiet laugh made her warm again. “You managed to beat me to it.”

“Yeah, well...I’ve never been known for my self control.”

He raised a brow and grinned wolfishly. “Is that so?”

She blanched at the implications of her words. The implication wasn’t wrong, though. Not that he needed to know that. She let the subject drop with a smile and an eye roll. As much as she wanted to goad him on and maybe get part two of that kiss, she needed to bring up the awkward question that floated at the very front of her mind. “Solas”--his ears flicked when she said his name--"you’re my landlord. And kind of boss.” Finally, she could voice that exact phrase directly to his face.

At the word “landlord,” he winced. “Technically I am not accepting rent from you, making us closer to roommates.”

“But...”

“If you wish for things to be business as usual, you have but to ask.” It seemed like an easy suggestion, but she could tell from the line of his shoulders that he wanted otherwise. It was just one kiss, why was she so bent out of shape about it? _Because I don’t want it to just be one_ , she thought grimly. That was the entire, dangerous issue.

The words came out before she could stop herself. “I don’t.” She bit her lip, unable to look into the depths of Solas’ eyes. He clearly didn’t mind this development. Where was the harm if it was mutual? Maybe they could...see where it went. Just try it out. A glimmer of hope fluttered in her stomach, and when she finally worked up the courage to look at Solas, she saw it reflected in his soft smile. She hoped her admission was good enough for him. “Ah...if it’s alright, I need to...go check my plots before high tide tonight.” It was a lie, and a lame one--but she needed to sort out her thoughts.

Solas nodded; if he realized she was making an excuse to leave, he didn’t call her out on it. “Be careful on the ice,” he said, voice low but warm. She gave him an almost-smile, mostly a crinkling in the corners of her eyes, before walking out of the room as calmly as she could manage.

She plodded down the stone steps, biting down a manic giggle. _Holy Creators and all their children, what have I gotten myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JFKLASDJFLKADSHFKLJ ASHFKLJADCFNSJX,  
> ASFHKJDHFLSMDJ  
> !!!!!!LSJFKJAHSD!!!  
> ?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!!!?!?!?!!??!?!?!?!
> 
> ...Yeah. So. That happened.  
> I'm sweaty as hell, and not just because it's 75 degrees in January.
> 
> Elven  
> ir'ina'lan'ehn: gorgeous, very beautiful (implied to look at) (i think)
> 
>  
> 
> Also if anyone is interested in canon Lyv, I have a bio for her [here](https://tauress.weebly.com/lyvhenari.html)! It fills in a lot of gaps about her that I'm way too lazy to fill in this relatively light fic lmao ^^;;;


End file.
